Avengers, Part Three: From Time to Time
by theicemenace
Summary: After Clint's breakdown, he comes back in contact with a woman from his past. But that past brings more trouble with it as he and Naomi try to figure out what they are to each other. Will history repeat itself leaving them both alone and wary of possible relationships? What price is Clint willing to pay to get back the woman he loves?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 1**

Naomi and Clint watched each other across the room, and though she'd been prepared for it, seeing him again still rattled her. From the unreadable expression that settled over his features, she'd done the same to him. It had to be worse for him though, because she had advance warning and he hadn't.

Projecting an impression of calm, she took another step forward, hands laced together in front of her. At her movement, Clint's left hand twitched as if he wanted to reach for a weapon. While she wondered if he still carried guns and knives on him at all time, she wasn't been worried that he'd accidentally attack her. In the time they'd been together, not once had he ever done so. And though twelve years had passed, the invasion had happened, and God knows what else, she knew he would never hurt her. At least not physically.

The emotional pain that she'd suffered still hit her without warning, like when the song _Amazed_ came on the radio, when her mother made lasagna, or when she had to go into the room they'd shared that incredible Thanksgiving. It hadn't been as bad this last visit, but she'd been with Troy at the time. The way that relationship had ended bothered her as well.

"You look well."

Naomi knew he meant it as a compliment, but it had come out sounding like he was saying she had good table manners. "_You _don't."

"Yeah, well having your mind taken over by a megalomaniac does that to a guy."

"I read your file. I'm sorry you had to experience that."

Moving over to sit on the side of the bed, Clint snorted. "Me too. How long have you…"

When he sat, she took the chair, crossing her legs and clasping her hands around the top knee. "Just a few weeks. I was recruited by Agent Hill and Dr. McNeil."

His hands gripped the edge of the mattress and he force himself to relax. "Do they know you're Fury's daughter?"

Now that stunned her because, until a few months ago, _she_ hadn't even known. "I imagine they do, but the question is how do _you_ know?"

~~O~~

There came another knock on the door before Clint could answer Naomi's question. Without waiting to be invited, the door opened and Stark came in. "You know, these doors are soundproof. I couldn't hear a thing. Glad I brought this." He held up a small device the size of a quarter.

To Naomi, and with more than a little annoyance, Clint asked, "Who else did you bring?"

Again Stark answered. "Just me, Legolas. Not like she had a choice though." His eyes looked Clint over then he went and peeked out the window. "You don't look any crazier than before. Why're you here?"

"Passed out." He slanted his eyes at Naomi then remembered that she now knew everything there was to know about him and his work with SHIELD, though he still wasn't ready to talk about it.

"They don't generally give you an all-expense paid trip to Fantasy Island because you fainted."

With a huff of frustration, Clint asked, "Can we do this somewhere else?"

"Doc?"

Naomi got to her feet, extinguishing a brief flash of annoyance of her own that Stark would dismiss her, covering it with a smile. "Of course, Mr. Stark."

She left the room, showing great restraint, Clint thought, by not slamming the door. Stark faced Clint again wearing the smirk that made the archer want to shove an arrow through his throat. Gathering up his clothes, he headed for the bathroom to change again, turning at the door. "What?"

"So _that's_ the woman who's had you tied up in knots all these years." Clint opened his mouth to deny it, but Stark wasn't done. "Don't bother denying it, Legolas." Prefacing it with a growl, Clint called Stark a name in Russian. Stark surprised him by laughing. "I don't know what that means, but it sounds _very_ impressive. Get changed. I'd like to get back to New York before Pepper realizes she can run the company without me."

Still reeling from seeing Naomi again, Clint closed the bathroom door, changed into his clothes and by the time he'd come out again, she was back with his discharge papers. "Where'd you park?"

"Helipad on the roof."

Feeling he was being watched, Clint looked to his left where Naomi was walking beside him, her eyes making a visual assessment. "I'm okay to fly, doc."

He didn't know what had made him use the same nickname he gave all the doctors on board the ship, but she didn't like it. If she was going to be his psychologist, he had to put some distance between them in order to differentiate her previous role as the woman he'd loved and lost and the one who would be helping him through this mental rough patch. And that's how he thought of it because if this were anything more, if he were to be like this for the rest of his life…he didn't complete that thought.

He also knew that they would have to talk about why he'd left. She would know most of it from his file, but they were just words on paper. Something along the lines of "_Patient continues to display retrograde amnesia for the events prior to and including those that occurred while he had been a prisoner._" It was a familiar turn of phrase he'd seen in his file over the years. Not that the doctors had let him read it, but his computer skills weren't exactly shabby and he found breaking each new layer of encryption challenging.

Naomi would insist on going over it on a personal level. If Stark hadn't been here, she might've brought it up on the way back to the ship. Or not. Being here, together, was so unexpected that it could take weeks-or months-to get used to it, to become comfortable enough with each other that they could talk without the past biting them in the a**. Okay, so that would probably always be a problem.

Inside the quinjet, Clint took a seat in the rear cabin, his hands itching to get at the controls, play cards, anything to keep himself busy during the flight so he didn't have to deal with the uncomfortable silence. Going to the workstation to the right of the cockpit, he signed in relieved that his user ID and passwords hadn't been revoked.

The co-pilot spoke over his shoulder. "We stopped at the hotel, settled your account and picked up your stuff, Agent Barton, including the weapons you'd locked in the wall safe." He held out the Glock, but the archer didn't take it.

"Thanks, Davis." Clint glanced at Naomi, but she was reading from a tablet. _Probably my file._ "You hold onto that."

Behind his faceplate, Davis seemed uncertain, but didn't question the order. "Yes, sir. ETA ninety minutes. She's docked at Quantico."

"Drop me off at Stark Tower, Davis."

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

Trying and failing to ignore Stark, Clint dropped his hands to the edge of the workstation. "Why didn't you take the suit?"

Shrugging, Stark used one hand to scratch his head. "It's at the cleaners." He came to stand behind Clint, hands in his pockets. "So, what's the plan, Legolas? Drugs? Hypnosis? Shock therapy?"

Naomi surprised both men by speaking. "No to all three. Agent Barton doesn't take drugs, he can't be hypnotized by conventional means and ECT is a barbaric form of treatment for mental disorders that should be outlawed."

"Sounds like you know Hawkeye better than any of us."

She glanced up then back to the file. "You could say that."

Clint started to shoot her a glare, but didn't dare or he might not be able to stop looking at her. Instead, he called up a game on the monitor. "How about a few rounds of Angry Birds, Stark?"

"How about the two of you tell me why you won't even _look _at each other?"

"Don't want to talk about it!"

Clint and Naomi said it at the same time in the same annoyed tone making Stark laugh. "It's _amazing_ how you can both throw your voices like that. Do it again."

The pilot interrupted to say they'd reached Stark Tower and Clint held in a sigh of relief that the billionaire would be out of his hair soon. "Could you send someone to pick up my truck at the hotel, Stark?"

"Already done, Legolas." Stark nodded to Naomi before trotting onto the ramp that led into the highest floor of the tower. Within seconds they were in the air again.

Clint's reprieve was brief because now he and Naomi had no buffer between them. He had things he wanted to say to her. At the same time he didn't, so he kept quiet and so did she. When the quinjet landed on the helicarrier, he gathered his belongings and followed Naomi down the ramp then inside. At a junction, he turned right to go to crew quarters, stopping when she called out to him.

"Agent Barton?" Turnabout was fair play so he didn't say anything. Just turned and finally looked at her. "Your first appointment is tomorrow at 1100 hours. Do _not_ be late."

And with that, she slapped the door panel and entered her office without a backward glance.

As he headed for his quarters he started remembering the ER. He'd fallen asleep and dreamed of Loki. Or was he still dreaming? The Asgardian had looked into the deepest, darkest recesses of Clint's mind and had used those memories to torture him each time he'd gotten close to breaking his hold. He'd used the memories of Naomi, letting him think that their lives had been different only to take that away by making him believe that Naomi had died by his hand during the invasion. And it hadn't stopped there. All of Clint's fears were acted out down to the last detail. Repeatedly. Then when he woke up screaming, Loki would do it again and again until Clint agreed to do his bidding or continue to suffer.

Clint slapped his hand over the door control and stalked into his room tossing his duffle bag in the chair and setting his bow case beside the desk. He knew he wasn't dreaming because seeing Naomi had hurt worse than anything Loki had done to him.

~~O~~

When the door had closed behind her, Naomi leaned against it sliding down to sit on the floor with her knees up and her arms wrapped around them. It was instinctive, reflexive. A way to protect herself. As a psychologist, she knew it, but that didn't mean she could stop it. Not immediately. Seeing Clint again had not been nearly as easy as she thought it would be, even with preparation.

Though she knew they'd both changed in the intervening years, she hadn't been prepared for the lines of fatigue or the brief moment of coldness in his eyes when he first saw her, quickly replaced by that unreadable mask. Very little of the warmth he'd shown her had remained. It could've been his disdain for her profession and probably was. Or it could've been a side effect of whatever had caused him to end up in the psych ward in Canada. She wouldn't know until she could get him to talk and to go by past experience, that wouldn't be easy. Maybe harder now.

He was smart enough to ask for help when he needed it and knew she would have to be the one to do it. For that to happen, they would need to come to some sort of truce. After reading his file, she now knew that he'd had a very good reason for not coming back. But what she couldn't forgive was that he'd stayed away and never tried to find her, to explain. She would've understood about the torture and the amnesia, but when he remembered he'd still stayed away. And she had to know why.

Recognizing that she wouldn't get those answers tonight, Naomi got to her feet, walked to her desk beaming the info from her tablet to the networked computer. Opening the file, she reread everything about this latest incident Clint had been involved in.

~~O~~

Getting to his appointment with Naomi wasn't Clint's problem. No, the problem had been lying in bed all night afraid to go to sleep even with the Ambien. It would help, but he hadn't wanted to bother the doctor to get a pill because it would've been like admitting that he wasn't able to handle a few bad dreams. But he did have to admit that the episode in the ER had disturbed him. And now he had to spend an hour several times a week talking to his ex-girlfriend about the things that terrified him.

They'd only been together for just over three months, but she knew him better than anyone, even Natasha, so she'd already know how this was going to go. It was hard to talk to a stranger about his issues, but he'd tried and succeeded for the most part. At least he thought he was making progress until Erickson left.

Resigning himself to trying to work this out, Clint changed into his workout clothes and headed for the deck to go for a run. He ran the length of the ship and back, and somewhere around the middle of mile two, he was passing the conning tower when Naomi came out onto the deck. She too was dressed for running. Without meaning to, he slowed down to watch her stretch, once again admiring the grace with which she moved. When he realized what he was doing, he ducked his head and sped up again.

Clint finished his run, returning to his quarters to shower and change. Sitting on the side of the bed, he rubbed the back of his head trying to decide if he wanted to eat before his appointment or wait until after. He turned his left wrist over and saw that he only had a few minutes to get to there.

A short time later, he was standing in front of Naomi's office. At exactly 1100, he announced his presence. The door opened immediately and he was once again greeted with the smell of cherries. Naomi was sitting at her desk typing at the computer, a pen clenched in her teeth and ignoring the fact that he was standing just inside the now closed door. He thought about the times he'd seen her doing it all those years ago and wondered why she bothered with a pen at all. The ship was ninety-eight percent paperless. Then he remembered her fondness for writing everything down before entering it into the computer. "Have a seat. I'll be right with you."

Swinging his arms, he hit one fist into the palm of the other hand and snapped his fingers as he walked over to look out the window, and kept doing it. He turned when she cleared her throat.

"_Please_ stop that."

"Sorry." Being in her presence made him restless. At times like this, he would run or go to the range and shoot something, sometimes crawl through the air ducts or sit on the conning tower. To calm himself now, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, but it didn't help because the cherry scent of Naomi's shampoo messed with his head. Opening his eyes, he saw her reflection in the window. She was still at her desk watching him with a thoughtful expression. But when she realized he'd seen her, she got up and came to his side.

"Let's get started."

"The sooner the better." Following her to the sitting area, he took the same seat he'd used when Erickson had been the shrink. "We trashed New York during the invasion and I'd like to get back to my work detail."

She hadn't changed much aside from her hair and the slight gleam of wariness in her eyes. If he'd put that there, he was very sorry. "It'll take a couple of sessions until I can determine if you're ready, so let's just take it one day at a time."

"We're having a session every _day?_"

"Start with three days a week with an eval every ten days or so and go from there."

Not wanting to let on that he was annoyed, he rested his right ankle on his left knee in his casual pose. "Okay. What's first on the agenda?"

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but we need to clear the air."

"Was hoping we could put it off for a while."

Shifting in her seat, she set the pad and pen on the table. "We have to or this won't work." Uncrossing her knees, she tucked her feet under the chair.

"Ladies first."

"Three days."

Whatever Clint expected Naomi to say, that wasn't it. "Pardon?"

"You were only supposed to be gone _three days,_ Clint. That was more than a decade ago."

He tried to maintain eye contact, but felt himself looking away. "Didn't have a choice."

"We _all_ have choices and you chose to stay away."

"What do you want me to _say?_"

Her eyes darkened in anger. "Something. _Anything_. But if it's _not_ going to be the truth, don't bother."

~~O~~

"Why would I lie?"

"You lied more than a few times while we were together. Why does any man lie? So they can avoid facing the truth or to get out of a jam." Naomi got to her feet because she had to move or she'd scream. She walked around and stood behind her chair digging her fingers into the headrest. He too got to his feet, looking as if he wanted to run away, but knowing that she was only projecting her own feelings.

"That's _not_ what happened." Going to the window again, he seemed to find comfort watching the water. "I didn't come back because I couldn't. A simple recon mission turned into an infiltration. From what I was told, I was made as an agent about ten days in."

"Tell me."

"You should know this. Coulson said he talked to you."

She nodded, holding up one finger and keeping her anger in check with difficulty. "He did. _Once_. And all he said was you'd be gone a few more days. I never heard from him or anyone else ever again."

~~O~~

"Your father…" Coulson had told Clint that Fury had taken on the responsibility of contacting Naomi regarding his condition. Something the Director obviously hadn't done. She already had animosity for her father. How could he add to it?

"My father what…?"

"Nothing." He turned from the window, leaning his hips on the ledge and lifting his shirt to show faded scars. "I was beaten and tortured off and on for almost a month then left for dead. Spent the next couple of weeks in a coma."

"Yes, I _know_, but what your file wouldn't say was why you didn't contact me when you woke up." It wasn't rational to expect that he would be able to give her everything she wanted, but she had to try.

"Couldn't."

~~O~~

Naomi's feet moved of their own accord, coming to a stop just outside his comfort zone. "Couldn't, wouldn't or didn't want to? Clint, you aren't telling me everything and I need to know!" Her voice rose at the end and she took a breath to calm down.

"Is that your professional opinion, doctor?"

"Oh, no. Do _not_ play games with me, Clint Coul-_Barton_." His posture would've appeared relaxed to the general public, but the muscles of his shoulders were so tense she doubted she would be able to get a grip. Clint pulled his hands from his pockets and pushed off the ledge which brought him close enough for her to see that his eyes had changed color. She wondered if he knew they telegraphed his emotions to the world.

"You read my file, and yet you're asking questions you already know the answers to. But I'll play your little games, if it'll make you happy. The truth is I _couldn't_. As in I was _unable_ to."

"Why? Was your dialing finger broken?"

"I had amnesia and didn't even remember your _name._ Hell, I barely remembered _my _name." He turned away again, one hand rubbing the back of his head. "I spent six months relearning how to do almost _everything_. I couldn't even do the simplest things for myself. Then when I went to your apartment, you'd moved on. Not that I blame you. It was a long time before I came back physically. How could I have expected you to put your life on hold to take care of me?"

"That's _exactly_ what you should've expected because I loved you, Clint! And you loved me! Or was that a lie too, like your name?" There was something he wasn't telling her, but trying to pry it out of him wouldn't work if he didn't want to tell her. All she knew was it had something to do with her father. "Let's just leave that alone for now."

She wanted to laugh when he muttered an oath under his breath, but she didn't. She was furious and wanted to stay that way for when she confronted her father. "Wait. Earlier you said, 'from what I was told.' What did you mean?"

"Don't remember any of it."

"Nothing?"

Shaking his head, he sat heavily on the end of the sofa. "No. Some of the events leading up to it are gone too." Elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them, he smiled sadly. "Like I told Gina…"

"_What?!_"

~~O~~

Clint's stomach dropped. He seldom spoke without thinking, but that's what Naomi did to him. Gina obviously hadn't told her daughter about the op she'd helped him and Natasha with, and now _he_ would have to bear the brunt of her anger. Coulson had been right. Naomi _was_ her father's daughter though her temper was somewhat mitigated by her mother's influence.

"You told my _mother_, but couldn't be bothered with telling _me?_ What the _hell_ were you thinking? Or _weren't_ you thinking?"

They were both on their feet now standing toe to toe. "Does it matter? It's over and done with, and I am _not_ going to discuss it with you."

"Fine!"

"Great!"

Afraid that he'd say something else he'd regret, Clint headed for the door, stopping when she grabbed his arm. "I'm not done talking to you!"

"Well, I _am_ done! Maybe you should get McNeil or Hoffman to take over because it's apparent we both have issues making this…" he gestured between them, "…a conflict of interest."

"The only issue I need to resolve right this moment is how _you_ knew Nicholas Fury was my father? _I_ didn't even know until a short time ago."

The rage that had burst out of him dimmed. He hung his head for a moment before turning to face her again. "You're not going to like the answer."

"Never stopped you before." Crossing her arms, Naomi refused to back down. "Tell me anyway."

"He sort of told me."

"Sort of? What kind of answer is _that?_"

She was so close Clint could feel the heat from her body across the small gulf reminding him of things better forgotten. And as he'd done when she was being stalked, he wanted to take her in his arms and make all the bad memories go away for both of them, but he didn't. Couldn't. Because, if he did, and they were somehow able to settle everything that had happened in the last twelve years, they could be compromising their positions with SHIELD. While there were no specific regulations against agents and staff being involved in a romantic relationship, the fact that she was treating him precluded them from doing so. "The only one I can give you."

"Oh, no! You are _not_ getting out of this, Clint. When?"

Again, he hesitated, but the look on her face told him she wouldn't let it go. "The day you were kidnapped by Decker."

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 2**

Taking a step back, Naomi turned away so Clint wouldn't see the anger and disappointment in her eyes though she couldn't do anything about her voice. "You _knew_ and didn't say anything?"

Clint huffed at her and she could see the eye roll in her mind. "How was I to know you didn't know who your father was?"

"I…You knew I hadn't seen him since I was a child." She was becoming irrational and took a long deep breath to calm down. "Okay. Okay. You're right. I'm sorry. It's just so…" She hadn't heard him move so when he spoke from behind her, she nearly jumped.

"Frustrating? Yeah."

Clint standing so close without them actually touching made her want things she knew she could no longer have. Still, she took a moment to enjoy his scent. He hadn't changed his soap or shampoo because he still smelled the same. Tangy and clean, like a forest after the rain. In her mind she pictured them cuddled together in her bed, his strong arms around her, protecting her, making her feel like nothing bad could ever happen to either of them, her sheets and pillows still retaining the smell after he'd gone. And the subtle difference in that smell after they'd made love.

But something bad _had_ happened and that was why she was here. Why _he_ was here. They had to get past this and move on so he could go back to work. Now that she was a member of SHIELD, she knew what he'd been doing for a living all these years. What he'd been training to do when they'd first met.

He'd once said "there are things about me I may never be able to tell you." He hadn't been kidding. The man she'd once loved had been an assassin. Still was, or would be once she'd certified him fit for duty. And finding out that piece of information had thrown her for a loop.

Did being an assassin make him a bad person? _She_ didn't think so, but others might not see it that way. The Clint she'd known would do what he had to order to protect the innocent and those who couldn't protect themselves. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it, and if Clint didn't, someone who didn't have his strict moral and ethical standards might take his place. And if she had a hand in allowing that to happen, she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

The sound of a buzzer broke the tension that had settled into the room and Clint stepped back, clearing his throat. "I should go."

Naomi faced him again. "Two days, same time."

"I'll be here."

She slipped on her professional cloak again. "Between now and then, if you have another nightmare, write it down and we'll talk about it. Also write down anything else that you'd like to discuss, anything that bothers you."

"Homework? Really? Okay, _fine_." His mouth turned upward in a smirk, half humorous, half not, as he hit the door control and was gone allowing Naomi to breathe again though probably not for long. She had to talk to her father and she was through letting him put her off.

Waiting just long enough to be certain that Clint was gone, she left her office and headed for the bridge. Before entering, she stopped outside to put on her bland smile, the one she showed to the world when she wanted to scream out her anger and frustration. And not being able to do so immediately made it all the worse.

Letting her feet carry her down the short hallway, she stopped just inside. No matter how many times she came here, she was awed by the sense of power under control, though she knew differently. And there he was, the epitome of control, Nick Fury. Her father. Rubbing her hands down her pants legs, she tested her voice by clearing her throat before speaking. "Director Fury?"

He turned, that one good eye landing on her like a laser beam. "Something I can do for you, Dr. Marks?"

"Yes, sir. It's about Agent Barton. Do you have a few minutes?" Fury glanced to the side, checking the time, she thought.

"I'm due on a conference call with the Council. Can it wait?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "Of course. I'll ping you with times that I'm available, if that works for you. However, I should point out that we need to talk sooner rather than later."

"Understood, doctor."

Fury nodded and turned his back dismissing her, and that made her even more furious. After leaving the bridge without getting a firm time and date for a meeting, she had a flash of dark humor. _Wouldn't that be Fury-ious?_ Shaking her head at her own puerility, she returned to her office.

The director would want a report on today's session and she had to figure out how to describe the events in such a way that she and Clint didn't look and sound like idiots. However, when she got there all she could see was Clint standing at the window telling her about being tortured as if he were saying the sun was shining, the moon was full or grass was green.

Her eyes filled with tears that she hadn't known were there. Going to the sofa, she threw herself down, muffling her cries with a pillow. Every part of her ached for all the pain and suffering Clint had endured while she'd been cursing him for running out on her.

They were both at fault in one way or another. She for assuming the worst and not even coming _close_ to what the worst was. And him for not trying to find her, to explain. Didn't he know that she would've done anything for him up to and including taking a leave of absence to take care of and support him on his road to recovery?

Eventually, Naomi's tears tapered off and stopped. There were more waiting inside for the next revelation from Clint or even her father. But for now, she was done. She yanked tissues from the box, wiped her cheeks and blew her nose, rolling her eyes at the soggy sofa pillow. Carrying it over to the desk, she sat down and started her report, lying through her teeth.

~~O~~

Clint stared at the door thinking about the argument he'd just had with Naomi knowing that it couldn't have been avoided. He should be furious at her for blaming him for things that had been out of his control and wishing again that he could remember something from when he'd been a prisoner of the Consortium. Had he tried to escape and that was one of the reasons he'd been beaten and tortured? From the file he'd read on them it was more than a possibility. It was a certainty.

His stomach grumbled, but he didn't feel like eating. Instead, he headed for the conning tower and climbed up on the roof to stare out at the water watching sailboats, yachts and other small water craft coming and going. He'd been there about an hour when Natasha came up to join him. She didn't say a word, just sat down, leaning back on her hands, her face turned into the wind and letting it blow the hair from her face. A little while later, she took him by the hand.

"I'm hungry. Let's eat."

With a smile, he followed her to the Mess Hall. They took a table in the back away from everyone else and she teased him into eating when he just picked at his food. That is until he looked up and saw Naomi come in and go straight to the dessert counter. Too far away to hear what was being said, he saw her lips move and the guy's eyes widen in shock before she turned a stalked away. Yeah, there was that bitch she always said she could be. It made him grin in spite of the circumstances. _That's my girl!_

A few days later, he was back in her office for another round of "Place the Blame" and not in the mood for it. He'd had a bad dream that awakened him in the middle of the night and he wasn't able to go back to sleep. Didn't _want_ to go back to sleep. Again he debated the sleeping pill option and decided to see the doc before the end of the day. If he could at least convince Naomi to sign off on him rejoining his work detail, he wouldn't be sitting around all day with nothing to do and end up going crazy for real.

He announced his presence and within moments had taken his place on the end of the sofa. Once Naomi was seated, he took out a small tablet with his "homework" and handed it to her. She barely glanced at it before giving it back.

"You can read it to me or just tell me in your own words."

"Those _are_ my own words." Tossing the tablet aside, he kept his eyes on his hands rubbing them together as he talked. "One night about a year or so after almost dying, I had a dream about my time with the Consortium. At first I wasn't sure if it _was_ a dream and didn't want to go back to sleep so I climbed up on top of the conning tower to clear my head. We were docked at Quantico like we are now and most of the staff was on leave. Agent Romanoff and I had just returned from a mission.

"Coulson came out a few minutes later with a couple of beers and we just sat there drinking and not talking. After a while, he asked if I was alright. I said, 'Have you ever had an experience that you thought was real and it turned out to be a dream?'" Clint grinned. "And he said, 'Not since the 70's.'"

Clint's head snapped up at the sound of Naomi's hastily stifled laughter and he felt himself wanting to laugh as well. She looked down still trying to remove the smile. "Sorry. I didn't know him well, but that sounds just like something he'd say."

"Yeah. I, uh, I've been having dreams lately that involve Coulson."

"I read the reports, Clint. You aren't the one who killed him."

Clint got to his feet and went to the window. "I know, but it's still my fault."

"Why?"

Facing her again, he scowled. How could she not see what was right in front of her? "I was the first person Loki converted. He took out everything that made me who I am and replaced it with something monstrous. He…unmade me.

"You once said I could never be 'turned' by the enemy because I can't be hypnotized. Well, with the point of his scepter, Loki proved you wrong."

"But the Asgardians possess a technology far in advance of Earth's current level."

"So?"

She uncrossed her knees and shifted in her seat. "So, what sort of training did you have that prepared you for monsters and magic?"

Clint snorted humorlessly. "You sound like Natasha."

"She was the one who brought you back?"

"She hit me really hard on the head." Naomi winced. "In addition to ending Loki's influence, I got a concussion out of it." Hands in his pockets, he paced until he was as far as he could get from her and still be in the room. "But it didn't really end there. I still see him in my dreams. Sometimes when I'm not asleep, I can still feel his presence in my mind, standing behind my shoulder, whispering in my ear, telling me to do things that I'd never have done before he unmade me."

"Clint, please sit down." Reluctantly, he did as she said. "Tell me more about your friendship with Phil Coulson."

Clint shrugged. "What's there to tell? We worked together."

~~O~~

Giving Clint a disapproving frown, Naomi said, "There must've been more to it than being colleagues. At college, you used his name as an alias and told everyone he was your cousin."

"Cover story in case anyone questioned why he was coming around all the time."

"And now that I think about it, Uncle Nick was obviously Director Fury." She couldn't help the brief flash of anger at the mention of her father because he'd turned down every meeting request she'd sent him over the past two days giving her next words more bite than they should have. "So you were undercover. That's why the alias, talking in code…and the lies."

"Yes and no." Again rubbing the back of his head, Clint rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other.

Asserting all the self-control she possessed to keep from yelling, she managed to say, "So you lied just for the hell of it?"

"Again, no. I really was there as a student, and the missions I was sent on were either tests or they required a specific…skill set."

Her pen scratching on the pad, Naomi noted that either Clint was lying or he had been lied to and hadn't picked up on it. The first scenario seeming more valid than the last. Unless he'd known they were lying and didn't care. "How can there be that many situations which require the skills of a master archer?"

Smiling ruefully, Clint seemed to relax slightly. "You'd be surprised. Though I do have to choose my targets more carefully than someone with say an M-16 or a rail gun."

"Of course. And we're getting off topic. I've forgotten how good you are at distraction." The way he'd distracted in the past her made her blush and she counted herself lucky that it wasn't as noticeable on her as it would be on him. "Back to Agent Coulson. Tell me about the first time the two of you met."

She sensed amusement from him now and he grinned to prove it. "Until he mentioned it, I didn't even recall the meeting. But then I _was_ a teenager. I'd been performing in front of an audience for less than a year and people sometimes came up to me afterwards."

"You must've been used to it by then."

"Not really. Most times I filled in on the tumbling act or even the tightrope or trapeze, but that night I wasn't feeling well. Mr. Carson sent me to lie down so I'd be ready for the next show. As I headed for my tent, this guy comes up to me and says how much he enjoyed the show and admired my proficiency with the bow. That's just how he said it too."

Though she had an idea what he would say, she still asked, "Agent Coulson?"

"Yeah, though he wasn't an agent at the time."

"And what did you say to him?"

Now Clint shook his head and grinned broadly. "I told him to **** off."

_Typical Clint!_ Using one hand to cover her smile, she made a note to look deeper into Coulson's file. "Now _that_ I can see. How were you recruited into SHIELD?"

The air of amusement that had surrounded Clint for the last few minutes vanished just that quickly. "After Carson's, I went to Tiboldt's and from there to Coney Island. Then one day, I just…I didn't want that life anymore, so I left. Took all my belongings-not that I had much-and just hit the road. I worked odd jobs. Washed dishes to get a meal, took work wherever I could find it as long as I was paid in cash, food or a place to sleep for the night. I was sitting in a diner drinking coffee because the manager was a prick. Refused to hire…" he made air quotes, "…transients. I'd been in town for a couple of days. A guy had promised me a full week's work, but it didn't pan out, so I was stuck unless I could find a trucker willing to give me a lift…"

**Cedar Hill, Texas**

**More Than Fifteen Years Ago**

Clint was down to his last dollar, hitchhiking from place to place, and using his skills as a roustabout to get work where he could. He'd spent the previous night sleeping in the park. It had been a blessing that it wasn't cold at night and he was able to actually get some much needed rest.

He washed his clothes, and himself, in the small stream that ran through the middle and hung his pants and shirt to dry. His T-shirt would be wrinkled, but clean enough to hopefully convince some bleeding heart to give him work so he could eat.

Back at the center of town, the smell of food coming from the restaurants made his stomach growl, but all he had was enough cash for coffee. Clint was on his third refill and perusing the jobs section of the newspaper that had been left by a previous patron. He either didn't possess the skills, or the employer required references and a drug test. He wasn't worried about the latter, but the former, he couldn't have them contacting the owners of the circuses he'd been with. They'd probably lie out of spite.

Clint had been about to request yet another refill from the waitress when she set a plate with bacon, over easy eggs, toast, hash browns and a short stack of pancakes in front of him. "I didn't order this."

The woman poured more coffee, popped her gum and said in a tired voice, "It's from the guy at the counter."

Clint had only seen one person enter and take a seat in one of the backless chairs. The man was over-dressed for the venue and he didn't look around to see how his offering had been received. That in itself told him more was going on than met the eye. The man ignored him in such a way that Clint knew it had been him. It was in the set of his shoulders, the way he sipped his coffee and took a bite of toast. His every move was calculated to project casualness and disinterest.

Sliding out of the booth, Clint carried the plate over to the stranger and dropped it on the counter. "I don't know what your game is, _pal_, but I want no part of it."

He turned away, halting his retreat when the man said, "What makes you think I want something from you?" He swiveled his chair so that Clint could now see his face. He was older than Clint by at least ten years, light brown hair and had friendly blue eyes.

"Because there ain't no such thing as a free lunch. 'Gifts' come with strings. What's yours?"

The placid expression on his face didn't change. Just one eyebrow lifting at the tone of Clint's voice. "You're too young to be so cynical."

"Life's a b****, ain't it?" Clint tucked his thumbs into his belt, hitched one hip to the side, and waited. Getting to his feet, the stranger showed himself to be Clint's height and lean. If he had to, Clint could take him.

"I should introduce myself then. Phil Coulson." He didn't offer to shake hands so Clint just waited for him to continue. "If I could join you, I can explain."

Clint's eyes flicked to the plate and back to Coulson, his head and stomach debating. His stomach won. He grabbed the plate and returned to the booth, Coulson sliding in across from him. Clint kept a wary eye on his companion as he devoured the food. It was cold, but tasted like heaven to someone who hadn't eaten in over a day. "So talk."

"You're not an easy man to find."

Clint had pegged this Coulson fella as a fed when he saw the bulge of the weapon under his left arm. "Gettin' lost is easy when no one's lookin' for you."

"But that's just it. We _have_ been looking for you."

He shrugged carelessly though he was a little freaked out that the government had been trying to find him. "Yeah? Why?"

Coulson nodded at the case in the seat beside Clint. "You have skills that would greatly benefit my employers."

"And they are…?"

Coulson took a sip of his coffee. "They prefer to remain anonymous for the time being. However, they did sanction this contact. All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say and think about my offer before making any decisions."

"Fair enough. How did you find out about my…skills?"

Coulson leaned back in his seat and signaled for more coffee. "You may not believe this, but I saw you perform when Carson's Circus came through Boston. When my employers asked me to recruit new employees, I thought of you. I've had people tracking you since you left the Coney Island."

"Okay. Let's hear it."

And within twenty-four short hours, Clint's life had changed dramatically. That night, he slept in the same park where he'd stayed the night before though he'd originally planned to move on if he couldn't find work. He met with Coulson the next day in the same diner, accepted lunch, the offer of employment and that night slept in a real bed for the first time in weeks.

**Present**

What Clint didn't tell Naomi was that the last time he'd slept in a bed prior to meeting Coulson had been when a woman had invited him to stay the night after they'd enjoyed each other's company in the alley behind the bar where she worked. He hadn't asked for money and wouldn't have, but she'd slipped him a few bills after making a remark about the fact that he was at least fifteen pounds underweight.

The following morning, she'd tried to stab him with a pair of scissors because he couldn't remember her name. And that had led to a vow of celibacy. He'd made the same vow several years ago, but for different reasons. And every time he saw Naomi, whether for one of their sessions, across the Mess Hall or in the gym, his body and mind were reminded of how long it had been since he'd made love. Not just with a woman, but with _her._

To hide the evidence of his body's betrayal, he looked for the pillow that usually squatted in one of the corners, but it was gone. Instead, he crossed his legs and thought about puppies frolicking in the snow, plunging into an icy river in just his skivvies and Loki unmaking him. And it worked, for now. But no promises for how long it would last.

They talked about Coulson until the timer dinged signaling an end to his session, and he breathed a sigh of relief that his earlier indiscretion hadn't been noticed by Naomi. No telling what she might've said, if anything. Probably nothing, but no sense tempting fate.

Another appointment was made for three days from then and he escaped, hopefully with his dignity intact.

A week later, he was still waiting for Naomi to make a decision about releasing him to light duty. One of the factors that went into her non-decision was that he was still having nightmares though not every night. He'd gone to the med bay to get something to help him sleep, but all the doc would give him was the Ambien. Resigned, he accepted the offer, but still hesitated to use the drugs though his sleep was being disrupted on a near-nightly basis with a bad dream of some kind, whether it involved Loki or a long forgotten memory of previous missions done solo or with Natasha.

He'd tried the natural way at Natasha's suggestion. Had taken long, hot baths, drank chamomile tea and swallowed melatonin supplements. Sleep had come, but nothing had stopped the dreams.

From his prior experience with the meds, he knew that he would still dream while in his drug-induced state, and that the dreams would also be different. The few times he'd taken it, the dreams were vivid, bright colors, surreal situations, but not disturbing and had never involved Loki or any of the events of the invasion. If he took it every night then by the time his next eval came up, he could truthfully tell her he wasn't having bad dreams. Trouble was the medical doctor would only give him a week's worth and his eval wasn't for another ten days.

He wasn't confined to the ship while the routine maintenance was being done so he made plans to get away for a few days. All he had to do was reschedule his next appointment with Naomi. Pulling his computer around, he sent her an email so he wouldn't have to lie to her face.

Going to the closet, Clint took out his bow case and set it by the door. A beep told him he had a new email. It was from Naomi confirming the appointment change. He shrugged into his jacket, picked up his bow case and headed for the deck.

After checking out with the OOD, he flagged down a cab and was dropped off a few minutes later where his truck and bike had been stored. Leaving the bike, he stashed his case in the back and got into the driver's seat. Unfortunately, he had to drive to New York hence the reason for changing the appointment. He pushed the speed limit and arrived at Stark Tower four hours after leaving Quantico.

Natasha had returned to her work detail, Rogers was still in Brooklyn. Thor returned from visiting with Jane just a few days before and had been assigned to the Long Island work crew. Clint chuckled just picturing the muscular Asgardian in a jumpsuit. Banner would be working in the lab, either with Stark or alone. Shaking his head, Clint's eyes started to glaze over just thinking about the two of them talking in the language of scientists. And Pepper, well she was probably keeping the company afloat so Stark could indulge in creating his inventions.

That left Clint with the residential floors all to himself. He could've scheduled the meeting here, but the type of people he had to see weren't the ones you let know where you lived.

"_Welcome back, Agent Barton. Shall I start a pot of coffee?_"

"Not just now, J. Oh, and I'll only be here a day or two then it's back to the helicarrier so maybe you could keep it on the QT."

Clint sensed disapproval from the AI. "_Mum's the word, sir. Of course, that does not preclude the others from finding out on their own._"

"I promise not to hold it against you. What're the chances of raiding the main kitchen for dinner?"

"_Excellent, sir. Would you care for a list of the available items?_"

Chuckling, Clint set his bow case on the dresser and went into the bathroom coming out a short time later divested of his jacket and shoes. "No thanks."

Going to the common area, he raided the refrigerator for the ingredients to make one of his favorite comfort foods, chicken and dumplings, even though the season was a little warm for it. The cook made it on the ship, but it just didn't taste the same.

When dinner was over, he carried a glass of wine out to the balcony and just stood there watching the skyline of the city. So many emotions were playing out in his head that even if he hadn't needed to meet with his contact, he would still have taken this little jaunt. A two for one trip.

Bedtime came around and he was ready to get some sleep. He washed his dishes, took one of the Ambien then brushed and flossed. "J? I need a wake-up at five."

"_As you wish, sir_."

Thirty minutes later, Clint was sound asleep and didn't even hear Natasha come into the room to check on him.

~~O~~

Having left standing orders for JARVIS to let her know if Clint came to the tower, Natasha wasn't surprised when she got the call. "Don't tell him you called me."

"_I won't, madam. He's left a wake-up call for five. Shall I give you one as well?_"

"Yes. I need to know why he's here when he should be on the ship."

The droll tone of the AI seemed amused at the machinations of the humans under his care. "_He did make a call from his personal phone. Shall I play it for you?_"

Natasha dragged herself to her room and into the bathroom where she started water for a bath. "Summarize, please."

"_He confirmed a meeting for tomorrow morning. There were no details such as time and place. However, you may be interested to know that they spoke Polish._"

Not being modest, she didn't have a problem undressing while she talked to the AI. "Polish? Who does he know that speaks Polish aside from me? Trace the call."

"_In anticipation of your request, I have already done so. The phone number belongs to a 'burner' phone that is no longer in operation. However, I was able to track the phone until it was turned off. The signal bounced off a tower in Mount Olive, New Jersey near Tulip Park. When it ceased sending a signal, it was on Interstate 80 headed toward Roxbury Township._"

Natasha turned on soothing music and sank into the hot water liberally laced with chamomile. "JARVIS, set my wake-up at four forty-five."

"_Yes, madam._"

~~O~~

Clint rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen to start the coffee then into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. The only problem with taking the meds to sleep was the time it took to wake up. He'd left a call with JARVIS for five, but had also set the alarm on his phone to get him up an hour earlier in case Natasha had any ideas about trying to follow him.

He dressed in his most threadbare jeans, worn boots, a T-shirt with the name of a Death Metal band on the front and a beat up jacket. Not bothering to shave, he rubbed gel in his hair spiking it. Going back to the bedroom, he opened the hidden safe, took out an envelope and shoved it into the breast pocket of his jacket. In the kitchen, he poured a cup of coffee, drank it down then poured another which he finished on the way down to the garage. "JARVIS, I need you to disable all tracking devices."

"_Done, sir._"

Crouched next to Natasha's vehicle, a black sports car, he asked, "Did you include the ones that Stark and Agent Romanoff told you not to tell me about?"

"_Of course, sir._" The AI seemed to think for a moment. "_You should leave immediately, Agent Barton. Agent Romanoff is on her way down as we speak._"

Clint fired up the engine and was gone a full three minutes before Natasha exited the elevator in the parking garage. Going to her car, she swore in several of the more colorful languages she knew because Clint had flattened all four of her tires.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 3**

Parking a half mile from his destination, Clint jogged to the nondescript home and knocked on the door. It was answered by an exotic looking dark haired woman in her forties. He smiled with genuine affection, speaking to her in Polish. "Isolda, my love. You are lovelier now than the first time we met."

"And you are full of _crap_, Jedrick." She responded in the same language as she presented her cheek for his kiss. He opened his jacket so she could see the Glock in the shoulder holster. Stepping through the doorway, he followed her to the kitchen where she poured coffee and set a plate in front of him. The spicy aroma of the _bauernfrühstück_ stirred his appetite which was a good thing as it was expected that they'd eat together and share small talk before getting down to business. When he'd finished his meal, he wiped his mouth and nodded when she asked if he wanted more coffee. "That was the perfect start to the day, Isolda." "I hope the rest of the day will be as perfect." Her eyes looked over his shoulder and nodded, and before he could even twitch, he heard a round being chambered. From the sound, it had to be a P-64. "Don't move, _my love_, or Reuben will be forced to shoot you."

Clint kept his hands on the table trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Never had Isolda mistrusted him so much that she'd had him held at gunpoint. Projecting an air of confidence, he used the smile meant to charm, glancing over his shoulder when Reuben nudged him with the P-64. "If you wanted to have a ménage, Isolda, you shoulda said something and I woulda showered before I came over."

"Reuben is my _brother_ and he's not your type."

Relaxing back in his chair, Clint swirled the last of the coffee before finishing it off. "What say we cut the _crap_ and get on with business?"

Isolda nodded and the gun was removed from where it pressed into the back of Clint's head, the kitchen door swinging shut again as Reuben departed. "I was not expecting your call. When last we saw each other, the _policję_ were loading you into the back of a black and white."

Shrugging, Clint crossed his knees, planting one elbow on the top knee. "I guess you could say I've been paroled. Just don't have to report to a PO every week."

"You escaped?" She was genuinely impressed.

"Yeah. Laid low for a while and now I'm here." Isolda reached for his plate, but he beat her to it, carrying it and the cup to the sink with her following. Clint stuck the plug in and added soap before starting the water. His hostess didn't move when he purposely brushed up against her side and she looked up at him with a smile.

"Can you stay?"

He knew what she wanted him to say, but he couldn't. In the past, he might've hung around for a day or so, and they would spend that time enjoying each other's company, but not this time. Not ever again. Taking his hands from the soapy water, he wrapped his arms around her from behind not worrying about the suds soaking the front of her top over her stomach. "Wish I could, but I gotta stay on the move. You understand."

"I do. What I do _not_ understand is the request for this particular…product."

Clint returned to washing the dishes while Isolda dried and put them away. "I have a don't ask, don't tell policy. That's what they want and I gotta come through or else."

"This product is readily available. Why go through a broker?"

He shrugged. "There're lots of people who don't have the means to get it any other way. If you're agreeable, he'll send you an email when he needs more."

She accepted his explanation with another smile. "Reuben's gone to get it. Should be back soon." Tossing the wet towel on the counter, she turned around to face him, leaning her hips against the edge, her smile becoming seductive as she ran a finger down the center of his chest. "Sure you don't have time to…"

Clint trapped her against the counter, a hand on either side. "Could go for a little makin' out, love, but I haven't time for more. I've got a few more stops to make on the way out of town."

Before she could say another word, he covered her mouth with his while he was looking for a way out that would leave his a** intact when the front door slammed. Isolda pushed him away just as Reuben came into the kitchen. He passed Clint the package then crossed his arms and just scowled.

Isolda tapped the top of the box. "Check it out."

Clint broke the seal and slipped his thumb inside the edge to open the box to verify that the contents were what he'd ordered then pocketed the baggie leaving the empty box on the table. "Looks good."

"Aren't you going to count it?"

"I trust you." Clint turned his left wrist over. "Gotta go or I'll be late." He gave her another quick kiss, returned Reuben's glare and hit the front door, turning in the opposite direction from where he'd parked just in case he was followed.

Back at the tower, he took the elevator to three floors below the residential area and jogged to the end of the hall. Using the window ledge, he climbed up to the air vent, pried the cover open letting it hang from its hinge. Grasping the edges of the opening, he pulled himself up inside then closed the cover again. He crawled through the ducts always going up until he came to the vent above his bedroom.

Hanging by his hands, he let go, landing on the thick carpet with barely a sound. Using the bedside table, he closed the vent cover. Opening the safe, he removed a small portion of his purchase, dropped it into the bedside table, and put the rest in the safe. It required voice and retinal scanning to open so he wasn't concerned that someone would go snooping, though Natasha might give it a good try. If anyone concerned him, it was Stark, though their teammate and benefactor had promised never to invade their privacy here in the small sanctuaries they'd created for themselves. That didn't mean he wouldn't if he felt there was a need. All Clint had to do was convince them that everything was fine. That _he_ was fine.

Clint felt a prickling on the back of his neck. Ducking and rolling, he came up on one knee, the Glock in his left hand ready to fire. He sagged in relief, releasing the hammer and shoving the weapon back into the holster under his right arm. "Nat."

"_Eblan._" Natasha stood just inside his room, arms crossed and an expression that promised him a world of hurt.

"Stop sneaking up on me."

She took two steps into the room and stopped. "You must have a guilty conscience to be so jumpy."

"I'm not jumpy or nervous or edgy or whatever adjective you want to use." Even to his ears the snort of humor sounded forced. "Let it go, Nat. Unless of course Fury's putting me under house arrest just for taking a few days off."

"That's not it and you know it, Hawkeye." Her demeanor softened as she came to his side watching as he tossed his jacket on the bed and removed the shoulder holster. "And most people don't carry weapons when they take a few days."

"You've been in this game longer than I have. We're not 'most people,' Nat."

She nodded, conceding his point. "Where've you been all day?"

Clint walked past her into the kitchen and she followed. The leftover coffee from this morning was dumped out and a fresh pot started. "Went for a drive."

"You're lying."

"_Not_ lying."

Her hand came down on his shoulder stopping him from taking cups from the cabinet. "Yes, you are, and I want to know why."

Looking down into her green eyes, he softened the scowl. "Had some things I needed to do. Errands. No big deal."

"I just worry about you, you know?"

"Thanks." Wrapping an arm around Natasha's shoulders, he planted a kiss on her temple. "_Ya tibyA l'ublyu._"

Natasha felt him pulling away when he realized what he'd said. She laid her head on his shoulder before he could take it back or escape. "I know."

~~O~~

Crossing the gangplank onto the helicarrier, Natasha and Clint didn't speak. She would've stayed in New York, but Fury had called a special meeting. It was probably nothing, as most meetings were when the ship was docked, but as senior field agents, their presence was required.

She watched Clint go into his room with a heavy heart. While still hurting from the situation with Loki, his ex-girlfriend, the only woman he'd ever truly loved, had come back into his life, doubling the hurt. It didn't help one bit that Naomi was also in the position of being the one who would heal those hurts. Natasha didn't know how that could possibly happen if _she_ was one of the causes.

Clint hadn't said anything to her about Naomi or Loki for that fact. Not in several weeks. He also hadn't mentioned his brother whom he'd just found out had been dead for three years. But that was Clint.

Setting her bag on the bed, she changed out of traveling clothes and into her uniform for the meeting. It was attended by senior and supervisory agents, and as she'd predicted, it wasn't about anything that couldn't have been sent in a department-wide email.

Goading Clint into a sparring session, she used the time to work out some of her frustrations. Most of which had nothing to do with Clint and everything to do with her ambivalent feelings toward Steve Rogers. Even in the midst of battle, she'd felt a pull, a special rapport with him that was similar to yet unlike what she had with Clint. With her partner, it was all about knowing each other so well that words were superfluous. They communicated in verbal and non-verbal shorthand that baffled the rest of the team and the other agents, and that's just how they liked it.

Clint got in a lucky shot stunning her, but only for a second. "All this energy is wasted on me."

She rolled to her feet, confused, as they circled each other looking for an opening. "What're you talking about?"

He smirked, just the lifting of one side of his mouth. "Rogers. Every time you two look at each other the temperature in the room goes up by at least…"

Natasha didn't give Clint a chance to complete that thought. In a flurry of blows, she ended their standoff with him on his back, her astride him, one hand raised to deliver the killing blow. "Screw you, Barton!"

Grinning, Clint relaxed and she did too, both of them panting, sweat rolling down their faces. She shifted her weight preparing to stand. He attacked and suddenly their places were reversed. "Me thinks the Widow doth protest too much."

Her arms pinned to the mat above her head, she glared at him with murder in her eyes. She could've gotten away easily, but let him make his point. "Let me up." The words were pushed through clenched teeth.

Chuckling, he released his hold and got to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. Going to the bench, he tossed her a towel then a bottle of water. They sat down, Clint leaning his elbows on his knees and wiping his face with the towel. "You like him, Nat. Admit it."

"Rogers? Of course I do. He's part of the team."

Slapping his thighs, Clint got to his feet, flipped the towel around his neck and took a long drink of water. "Just keep telling yourself that and you might even begin to believe it."

Natasha called him a name as he exited the gym with a wave leaving her there with only her thoughts for company.

~~O~~

Bringing her fists down on the desk made her coffee cup jump though it didn't spill, for which Naomi was thankful though just barely. Having her clothes ruined would've been one more thing she could blame on her father. This latest round of email tag was the last straw. Pushing away from the desk, she stood, tugging her silver-gray blouse into place over dark gray slacks. A black belt cinched her small waist.

The jewelry she wore was made from sterling silver with black, dark gray and white Zebra stones. The necklace had an oval drop accented by a single black Swarovski crystal and hung from a short black multi-strand chain, the earrings matching exactly. She also wore a silver bangle watch, more out of habit than because she needed it. The look was completed by black pumps with a short heel. Checking her face in the mirror satisfied her that she looked professional without overdoing it.

Exiting her office, she eschewed the shortcuts she'd finally learned to use, striding purposefully through the halls and onto the bridge without any of her former hesitation. Unfortunately, her father was not there. "Agent Hill, where is Director Fury?"

"In his quarters."

"Thank you." Making and about face, Naomi mapped out in her mind the path to get to her destination as quickly as possible.

Hill called out to her, "He asked not to be disturbed. May I ask where you're going, Dr. Marks?"

Without slowing down, Naomi said over her shoulder, "To disturb him."

She thought she heard Hill calling the director, but couldn't be sure, nor did she care as she hurried on her way. Stopping in front of his door, she straightened her shoulders and unclenched her fists before signaling her presence.

The door opened almost immediately and there he stood, for once without the long leather coat and in his stocking feet. One hand held a book, a finger holding his place.

Without a word, he stood back to let her in. Fury's quarters were on the port side of the ship facing away from the shore and were neither bigger nor smaller than those of his staff though he did have a window. He wordlessly offered her a seat, but she chose to stand.

"What can I do for you, doctor?"

"Would it be too much trouble for you to call me by name just once?"

He shifted in his seat setting the book aside and took a sip from the cup of tea on the table to his right. "What can I do for you, _Naomi?_"

"Explain."

"I'd be happy to, if you could specify."

From her pocket she took a photo and shoved it at him forcing him to take it. "It's a picture of me and Agent Barton. Clint. It was taken twelve years ago next Thanksgiving at Mother's."

"Why are you showing it to me?"

"Look at it again. What do you see?"

Holding it up in front of his good eye, he looked over the photo again. "What am I supposed to see?"

"Two people in love. But we didn't _stay_ that way and it's _your_ fault."

"How is that my fault?"

"Because Clint worked for _you!_ And if you'd let him be a normal guy just for a while longer, he wouldn't have gone on the mission where he almost died."

Again, Fury gestured for Naomi to sit and she perched on the edge of the bed waiting for him to continue. "You and Agent Barton had a romance that ended more than a decade ago and you're blaming _me_." She didn't say anything. Just let him work it all out on his own. "His memories of that time are unreliable."

"Yes, I_ know._ But…"

The SHIELD director held up his hand for quiet. "I'm not accusing or judging Agent Barton. His injuries were such that he may never get those memories back, so it's no surprise that he doesn't remember that he _volunteered_ for the mission."

"Why would he volunteer? We had plans for the holidays."

"The mission was originally scheduled for January while the university was on winter break, but it had to be moved up."

Naomi's straight posture sagged and she was unable speak as she absorbed this new information. Clint had _volunteered_ to go on that mission. She understood why he couldn't tell her at the time and now she knew why he hadn't uttered one word in his own defense during their argument. He didn't remember.

A glass of water appeared in front of her. She looked up into her father's face and saw nothing but sympathy for her pain. She also knew he was a spy trained to deceive. "I've been able to piece together bits and pieces from the official records and from what Clint-Agent Barton remembered. Phil Coulson came to see me one time, just once, and that was it. From what Clint didn't say, or rather the way he didn't say it, he either knew or had been told that _you_ were supposed to keep me informed of his condition while he recuperated, but you didn't."

Settling back into his chair, Fury took a breath and let it out. "I thought it was for the best."

"The best? For whom? You? SHIELD?" On the verge of crying, Naomi covered her mouth with her hand until she could speak. "Did you even _once_ think that what would be best for Clint was to have someone there who cared about him to provide support while he healed?"

"As I said, I thought it was for the best. In retrospect, I can see that it was perhaps not the wisest course of action."

Naomi finished off the water, set the glass on the bedside table and got to her feet. At the door, she turned. "It was the not knowing that hurt so much. Just like when you abandoned my mother and me. Well, I'm not that five year-old girl anymore, the one who idolized her father. Going forward, _Director_, we should keep our relationship strictly professional. And I'll even do us both a favor and not tell Mother I've seen you."

~~O~~

Fury watched his daughter leave without trying to stop her. Until she was ready to listen, there wasn't much he could say that would change her mind. Going to the closet, he took down a small case, rubbing his thumb over the fingerprint scanner to unlock it. Inside were several photos albums.

He opened the top one and there on the first page was a photo of Naomi as a baby with her mother and father. Smiling fondly, he turned the pages watching his child grow into a beautiful young woman. Perhaps one day they would get to a point where he could show her that though he hadn't been around, he had kept track of her, had even attended her high school and college graduation ceremonies. One day, maybe, they could even have a real father-daughter relationship.

Setting the case aside, he went back to reading his book.

~~O~~

Clint jumped back out of the way when Naomi came running out of Fury's quarters. Whatever they'd been talking about had made her angrier than he'd ever seen her. Wishing there was something he could do and knowing his options were limited, he decided to do nothing. For now.

Hours later, he was in bed staring up at the ceiling in the dark when he remembered that today was his birthday. He hadn't really celebrated in years-didn't even remember how old he was-and given the events of the past few months, the less attention on him the better right now.

On the bedside table lay one of the Ambien and a glass of water, but for some reason he still hesitated to take it. He wanted to be able to return to his work detail in New York and the only way to make that happen was for Naomi to release him. While he was pondering all the likely scenarios, he fell asleep. The dream began almost immediately.

He was in a room tied to a chair while a man alternated asking questions and beating him with a closed fist. But no matter how the questions were asked, he always gave the same answers.

"_My name is Marlow Fenwick from Abilene, Kansas. I'm an unemployed construction worker. Heard you were hirin'. I'm just lookin' for a job._"

And always the same response. A punch to the head, the ribs, the kidneys. If he fell, they would leave him on the cold hard floor and kick him in whatever part of his body was available. Usually the stomach or legs, but his back, shoulders and head got their share as well.

The beatings eventually segued into torture. When the smaller of his two captors pressed his hand against a hot iron, he awoke screaming and trying to crawl away from the figure silhouetted in the dark.

"Sh! It's okay, Clint. You're here on the ship and I'm here with you." Natasha was sitting on the side of his bed gripping his shoulders and shaking him. He was panting so hard he was in danger of hyperventilating. Natasha must have seen the signs because she handed him a paper bag.

Clint reached for it, but the moment he touched it his hands felt as if they were on fire making him hiss in pain. "Ow! Damn!" He maneuvered himself around until he was sitting with his back against the wall holding his hands in his lap.

Natasha held the bag over his mouth for him. "Breathe," she ordered, and in a few minutes his heart slowed down and his breathing became more normal.

Pushing her hands away, Clint accepted a glass of water, drinking it all down at once. He handed the glass back, untangled himself from the sheet and stood, Natasha coming up beside him, one hand touching his arm. He was still shaking and the concern in her green eyes was touching. "Thanks. I'll be okay now."

"No, you won't. You need…"

"What I need…" he urged to toward the door and out into the hall, "…is for _you_ to go back to bed."

She squeezed his hand. "Call if you need anything."

"I…" A thump to his right startled him, his left hand twitching toward a weapon that wasn't there. But he needn't have bothered. He and Natasha saw Naomi just ten feet away. She was crouching to pick something up she'd dropped. To Clint it looked like a photo album and a paperback. The album must've been old because all the photos fell out. She hastily gathered everything up as he took a step in her direction. There was a flash, a brief reflecting of the light off of something that seemed familiar dangling from her hand. "Naomi…"

To Clint's surprise, she turned and ran. When she disappeared around a corner and her footsteps could no longer be heard, Natasha said, "She thinks we're…"

He looked at the two of them standing in the hall in their pajamas. "Everyone else does. Why was she over here anyway? Her quarters are on the other side of the ship."

"And you know that how?"

He couldn't keep a smirk from turning up the corners of his mouth. "I make it a point to know where everyone sleeps, just in case."

"Really?" Natasha shifted her weight onto one leg and crossed her arms. "What room is Davis in?"

"Um… You know, it's more of a general guideline than a hard and fast rule."

A rueful smile twisted her lips. "Hill?"

"Starboard, aft."

"Cassandra Blevins?"

Clint thought for a moment. "Port, fore, by the maintenance hatch." At her "oh, really?" stare, he explained, "I'm a _guy_ and secure enough to admit that I have…daydreams…about some of the women on board. Sometimes more than one at a time. Especially the, uh…"

"The dangerous ones?" One perfect eyebrow lifted. "Fantasies. They're called _fantasies_."

He didn't deny it, and when she covered a yawn, Clint turned her in the direction of her room and gave her a push. "Back to your web, Black Widow."

~~O~~

Turning the corner out of Clint's line of vision, Naomi kept going until she reached her room and the door closed behind her, hands clenched so tightly the pendant dug into her palm. She'd gone to Clint's quarters to see if the photos and other items would help remind him of the things he'd forgotten, some of the happy times they'd shared.

But when she saw Natasha coming out of his room in sleepwear and holding his hand, she thought that all the rumors of them being more than partners were true. Not that it was any of _her_ business though it did have to be factored in when assessing Clint's mental readiness to return to his job as a spy and an assassin.

Her feelings on that wavered from day to day with her moods. Clint had killed her stalker all those years ago by putting an arrow through his chest. If he'd actually wanted him dead, she now knew that he'd have found a way to do it without leaving a trace. And if he wanted to go back to that life and was emotionally fit for it, he should go. She had no right to stop him from doing the job he'd been trained to do.

Sitting on the side of the bed, Naomi picked up the album and carefully put everything back the way it was, wishing that it was as easy to fix her life…and Clint's.

She'd seen the news reports on the invasion while she'd been teaching a class at the University of Leipzig, Germany. The news had concentrated on Iron Man, Captain America, Thor and Hulk while the contributions of Hawkeye and the Black Widow had been downplayed. Naomi understood. They were spies and assassins and needed anonymity to do their jobs. But in today's world, one didn't have the expectation of privacy once they stepped outside their home, and the cell phone footage had been the first she'd seen that had focused on Clint and Natasha.

Calling up the link on her personal computer, she again watched the YouTube video that already had four million hits. Naomi just hoped it didn't hinder their ability to do their jobs. With a heavy sigh, she pushed the computer away and shoved the photo album in the bedside table.

~~O~~

The next morning, Clint dressed in his workout clothes and made his way down to the gym. As he neared, he could hear music. Not the usual upbeat, fast paced arrangements that most of the staff worked out to, but softer and slower with lots of strings. Classical. His mind supplied the details: _The Sleeping Beauty_ by Tchaikovsky. This version had been performed by The Russian Philharmonic. This particular piece came from the second act, the awakening of Princess Aurora by Prince Désiré.

With a sad smile, he thought how beautiful Naomi looked in her pink leotard and wrap-around thigh length skirt that swirled and flounced in the air with every step. When they first met, she'd mentioned taking ballet and it saddened him that he'd never gotten to actually see this side of her before.

He watched transfixed as she pirouetted, leaped and frolicked around the room, her movements lithe, flowing easily from one step to the next showing off the grace and elegance that had drawn him to her like a magnet twelve years ago. It pulled at him again now.

And in that moment, he remembered all the reasons why he'd fallen in love with her the first time.

**TBC **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 4**

The memory of loving Naomi brought others that had eluded Clint until now. Once his memories of her had returned, spotted here and there with gaps, he remembered loving her and being loved _by_ her. What he hadn't recalled until today was the moment he'd told her. He didn't know how watching her dance could do that, but he was glad it had.

As always, when he tried to remember, his head began to throb. He pressed the heel of his hand to the area over his left eye as the blood rushed through him, pulsing in time with the ache. But with the pain came the memories he'd stopped trying to recall because his head would ache for hours afterward. He saw them, he and Naomi, his arms around her as a man with an arrow protruding from his chest breathed his last, blood pooling on the ground around him. Fear of losing her forever had made him say the words.

_I love you so much, I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost you._

"In or out?"

Slightly disoriented, Clint's vision blurred then cleared, a small amount of dizziness still remaining. Maria Hill was looking at him expectantly awaiting an answer. He also noticed the music had stopped. "Um…out."

Hill glanced through the window, a smirk twisting her lips. "Why don't you just ask her out instead of stalking her, Barton?"

Clint went from mesmerized to enraged in an instant. "Excuse me?!"

The bantering tone and cocky grin Hill had worn when she arrived turned to annoyance. "It was a _joke_. Lighten up."

"Stalking is _not_ something to joke about!"

Hill raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Crap, Barton. Are you always grouchy in the morning?"

"Only on days that end in Y."

The door opened and Naomi stepped out taking in their aggressive postures, looking from one to the other. "Is there a problem?"

"No." Clint held Hill's gaze for another five seconds as Naomi came to stand in between the two agents, touching him on the arm. He looked down into her wide and curious eyes recalling his revelation of just a few moments ago. As fast as he could, Clint left the area, embarrassed at being caught watching Naomi without her knowledge and annoyed as hell at Hill for pointing it out.

~~O~~

Watching Clint hurry away with his eyes averted told Naomi that more was going on than either would say. "I heard loud voices, Agent Hill. Is something going on between you and Agent Barton?"

Shaking her head, Hill forced a smile. "Call me Maria, doc. And no, nothing's wrong. He can be a grouch first thing in the morning."

"Really?" Naomi reached back in her memory and pulled out all the mornings following the two of them sleeping in each other's arms. Only a few stood out to the point where she would've called Clint grouchy, but those times were few and usually had to do with the circumstances. Having your truck blown up was a big contributor. She was smiling wistfully, but didn't know it. "Never noticed."

"Yeah." The women changed places as Hill opened the gym door. "_I_ think he just needs to get laid. There's even a pool."

Naomi almost dropped her gym bag at Hill's comment. "That's inappro-"

"If you wanna make a move, I say go for it. The worst he can do is say no."

_No. The worst he can do is say _yes_!_ Did the other woman know that Naomi and Clint had once been together or was she fishing? Whatever the reason, Naomi wouldn't be the one to appease her curiosity. Not today. The conversation also brought out the fact that Naomi had been remiss in some of the questions she should've been asking Clint. The answers he gave would help her gauge his ability to handle stress.

In the past, he would run or go to the archery range, but those were only the ones she knew about. With the type of job he had, Clint must have more than one stress reliever. He didn't drink to excess nor did he take recreational drugs. Or that was how he'd been before. It was up to her to figure out if he was doing it now, though it didn't seem likely.

Naomi went to her room to shower and change before going back to her office and working up a list of the questions she wanted to ask Clint in their next session. In addition, she sent emails to schedule the annual evaluations for some of the staff chosen randomly. She received confirmations from everyone but her father. Not that it surprised her. It was a conflict of interest for her to perform his evaluation. Opening a new email, she sent a request to her superior, Dr. McNeil.

~~O~~

By the time Clint reached the deck, the dizziness was gone, pushed out by his aggravation toward Hill. What made her mention stalking? She couldn't have read Naomi's file if she made jokes.

Making a mental note to apologize to Hill _again_, he finished his warm-up and took off running. At mile two, he'd come to the decision to request another shrink because he wasn't certain that he could maintain a strictly professional relationship with Naomi. Then about mile five he reversed his thinking to no way they could go back to what they had in the past. Mile seven had him unresolved as to what to do about Naomi, if anything.

Returning to his room, he lay down on the bed instead of showering right away. Lack of sleep from the night before caught up with him and he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

~~O~~

Night had fallen in New York cloaking the city in enough darkness that the wounds didn't show as much. Life was slowly returning to the worst hit areas. Natasha leaned on the balcony railing watching the lights come on where there had been none for months.

She felt rather than heard Steve come to her side. Not close, but close enough that she could tell his heart was beating slow and steady. He didn't speak and neither did she. They just shared a companionable silence.

It started to rain, and they headed inside just as Pepper came toward them. "Dinner's ready."

Without looking at each other, Steve and Natasha went to the sink to wash up, joining Pepper, Stark, Banner and Thor around the table. Somehow they made it seem accidental that the super-soldier and the spy were sitting next to each other.

Talk around the table was brisk with some minor differences of opinion, usually involving Stark, and were settled by Pepper because she was the only one of the group that Stark would listen to. Steve made a pot of coffee not watching as Natasha prowled the room and finally finding a spot in front of the fireplace. She looked up when Steve handed her a cup of decaf then seated himself next to her where they spent the next hour talking about whatever subject came up.

Thor came to join them, and Natasha welcomed the Asgardian with a smile though Steve seemed to be a little annoyed. She set her empty cup aside and wrapped her arms around her knees pulling them to her chest. Though she saw him every few days, she missed Clint. He was the only one who seemed to understand how she was feeling and when she needed someone to just sit and say nothing.

From the corner of her eye, Steve passed her and Thor by, going to stand in front of the patio doors, hands in his pockets and just watching the stars come out, what few could be seen. The moon was peeking over the tops of the buildings to the east when Stark went to stand next to Steve. Stark appeared relaxed most of the time, and tonight was no different. But the twinkle in his brown eyes told Natasha that something was up. She just had to wait to find out what it was.

~~O~~

Though he tried to ignore him, Steve knew it would be impossible. _No one_ ignored Tony Stark for long.

"Hey, Cap, you're not letting Point-Break muscle in on your action, are you?"

Steve glanced down at the shorter man then back to the view. "What're you talking about, Stark?"

The ice cubes in Stark's drink clinked as he took a sip of scotch, holding it in his mouth a moment before swallowing. "You and Charlie Brown have a lot in common."

"Charlie Brown?"

"Peanuts? It's a cartoon about a lovable loser beset by insecurity and self-doubt."

None the wiser after Stark's quick explanation, Steve faced him. "How does that apply to me?"

"You both have a thing for a little red-haired girl." Stark poked him with one of the fingers holding his glass. "And you better make a move soon or…_oof!_"

Stark was beside Steve one second and on the floor looking up at the ceiling with Natasha on one knee over him, a hand gripping his throat the next. "Say that again, Stark! I dare you!"

Thor, his deep voice filled with humor, came to watch the festivities. "It seems that you have spoken out of turn, Stark. What will you do now?"

The billionaire's eyes flicked from Steve to Thor to Banner to Pepper and back to Natasha, his voice slightly strangled. "I will lay here quietly until she lets go of my throat then I will calmly and carefully run like hell."

Everyone but Natasha chuckled and finally, the Russian too saw the humor. She got off of Stark then Thor helped him up. "Take care with your words from now on, Stark."

Brushing imaginary dirt from his pants and shirt, Stark addressed the air. "You getting all of this, JARVIS? I want it on record that the Black Widow threatened me with physical violence."

"_As you wish, sir._"

Pepper crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "You asked for it, Tony. Leave Natasha and Steve alone. If they don't realize that they're perfect for each other, why should _we_ interfere?" After dropping that bombshell, Pepper took Stark by the hand and led him down the hall to their room leaving Thor and Banner laughing while the other two sputtered protests. "Good night all!"

~~O~~

Ten days later, Naomi sat in her office typing so fast her fingers were a blur. The report she was composing should've been on the director's desk at the beginning of the week. True to her directive, she and Fury only spoke to each other on a professional level and barely that. The email requesting the report ASAP had been in her Inbox when she arrived nearly an hour later than she'd intended, and it was Clint's fault…again.

The chime announced a visitor startling her so that her teeth clamped down on the pen in her mouth. Instead of using the voice command, she hit the button to her right and a moment later, Clint was standing in front of her desk patiently waiting for her to notice him. Not that she hadn't known it was him. She could've been asleep and still have known he was in the room. He had such a strong presence, more so than when he'd been younger, that he would surely invade her dreams if given the chance. Well, she'd just have to make certain to keep her wits about her or this could turn out very bad for both of them. And this time it would be so much worse than the last.

He started that annoying habit he had of snapping his fingers and popping his fist against the opposite palm on his way to the window. As he passed, she caught the twinkle of mischief in his blue-gray eyes, one corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. He was doing it on purpose, and she let him get away with it. This time.

Pushing away from the desk, she picked up her pad and took a fresh pen from the desk. The one she chewed on hadn't worked in a long time. She used it as a sort of pacifier. Something to clench her teeth into when she was thinking or ticked off and didn't want to yell.

"It's time."

He turned from the window with an overly eager expression. "Hot damn!" Going to the sofa, he flopped into his seat as if he couldn't wait to get started.

"You _do_ know this will still go fifty-five minutes even though we're starting late, right?"

He was disappointed and didn't try to hide it. "You take all the fun out of having your head shrunk."

Under her breath, she muttered, "We'll see." Out loud she said, "Tell me about your dreams."

The question made him uncomfortable, just as it always did. For over a week now he'd been telling her that he hadn't had even one nightmare or unsettling dream. And because it was highly unlikely that they'd stopped on their own, she figured he had to be taking something for sleep. A check with the Chief Medical Officer shot that idea down. He'd given Clint only enough Ambien for a week. That had been more than two weeks ago and he hadn't been back.

Clint's most recent evaluation scheduled for last week had been delayed by an inspection tour by the Counsel. She could still see Clint in his black uniform hands clasped behind his back standing with the rest of the senior agents. He'd looked so strong and fearless that it had been difficult to connect that Clint with the one in the psych ward or the one from years ago. If she didn't know his as well as she did, she wouldn't have known he was the same person. "How are you sleeping?"

"Good. Weird dreams, but no nightmares."

He was relaxed, a slight smile on his face as if he knew something she didn't or wanted her think he did. "So no trouble going to sleep at night?"

"Nope." Slicing a hand through the air to illustrate, he gave off an air of self-satisfaction and smugness. "Sleeping straight through."

"I just don't understand how that can be. Dreams bad enough to cause your breakdown wouldn't just stop like that. Just two weeks ago…"

The smile faded away though he kept his eyes on her. "You saw Natasha leaving my room."

Looking down at her lap, Naomi felt embarrassment at the reminder. "It's none of my business."

He reached out, faltered for a moment then gripped her hand. "Were you coming to see me?"

"Yes. I have some things of yours you might want back. They seemed important when we were…"

Shifting his hold on her hand, his fingers curled into her palm with his thumb touching her knuckles. She just let him hold onto her, enjoying being able to really feel his touch for the first time since the night after Serene and Donny's wedding. "All my stuff was brought from the apartment and I didn't see anything missing."

"I don't have them here. They're in my room." Now she did look at him. "One is a pendant. Not sure what the design means, where it came from or what it's made of."

He released her hand, puzzled. "It doesn't sound familiar. Sure it's mine?"

"Absolutely. You wore it the morning after Thanksgiving, but never told me the story behind it." Suddenly feeling awkward about bringing up those memories and that she was still aggravated that he'd confided in her mother, she cleared her throat. "How do you handle stress? Do you still run?

"Yeah. Run, work out, go to the range." he shrugged. "Same as years ago."

Naomi felt the pain and awkwardness of their shared past. It was the same for him, but they had to be able to discuss those events if either of them were to heal. Thinking about their trip to the archery range so many years ago, she spoke without thinking. "What about sex?" Clint didn't respond, just sat there blinking in astonishment. Flushing with embarrassment at what she'd just said she stumbled through an apology. "I…I'm sorry. That's not something I need to know. Unless, of course, you have a girlfriend like everyone says, and then it could get…awkward. Kind of like now."

He grinned once the shock wore off and she wanted to hit him for having fun at the expense of her dignity. Sitting back, he crossed his legs, one arm hanging over the back of the sofa. The very picture of calm and self-control with more than a hint of the bad boy she'd once known. "Alone or with a woman?"

Having just taken a drink to soothe her suddenly dry throat, Naomi choked. "_Clint!_"

"Just clarifying. Go ahead. Ask me anything."

Taking him at his word, she poised her pen to write. "_Do_ you have a girlfriend?"

"What you _really_ wanna know is if Natasha and I are sleeping together." The cheeky grin softened into a smile. "Don't believe everything you hear." She waited for him to continue. "No. Nat and I have never been anything but partners and the best of friends."

She was relieved and trying not to show it. More relieved than she should be. "Since you're in a mood to share, just how long _has_ it been since you've had sex?"

"Alone or with a woman?" This time she'd been ready for it and shot him an affable glare. He sighed and looked resigned. "With a woman, more than a year, but less than two. Alone…three weeks. You're not writing this down, are you?"

Surprised he would ask she looked up. "Of course. Let's move on. On your last mission…"

"You know, you've been asking all the questions. How about some Quid Pro Quo?"

By the look in his eyes, they wouldn't be going forward unless a few things were settled. Naomi set her pad aside and took a drink of water. "Fair enough."

She thought he would go right to asking about sex, again surprising her by saying, "You were married?"

"Yes. Isaiah. We married about three years after, uh… It was a mistake from the start though we did try to make it work. Couples counseling. In the end, we realized it was never going to be the happily ever after we both wanted. The divorce was final just over a year later."

"I'm sorry."

Shrugging, she took a sip of water. "He was a good man. Just not the one for me. He's married again and they have a son."

"Has there been anyone else? Boyfriend? Friend with bennies?"

~~O~~

Naomi snorted a laugh as Clint had meant her to. The atmosphere was getting a little heavy for his taste. "Yes, yes and _no_." She looked down and away as if she were thinking of something embarrassing. No, not embarrassing. She was self-conscious, but about what, he couldn't tell.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not really. But you do deserve to know. Several years after my divorce, I started seeing an FBI agent. He'd just been transferred to the Chicago office and was the agent in charge of updating my security clearance."

Clint leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped between them. From her tone, he got the idea the answer would be significant. "Someone I know?"

She nodded, looking at him with that expression he'd come to know. The one that was looking for signs of amnesia for an event or individual. "Troy Bishop. We were together for a while though we didn't live together. It ended about a year ago when I caught him sleeping with his partner."

That Naomi had been seeing one of the agents who'd helped take down her stalker surprised him, but he kept it low-key. "Lewis?"

"No. Lewis left SHIELD to take a position as the chief of police in Trinidad, Colorado."

Clint couldn't help the grin that took up residence on his face. "The Sex Change Capital of the World?"

Naomi answered in kind. "Yes. And _no_, she didn't have gender reassignment surgery."

"_That's_ a relief, 'cause she was _hot!_"

Naomi snorted, obviously uncomfortable with talking about her ex-boyfriend's infidelity. "Troy's partner's name was Shelby Lockwood."

"And not important to this conversation. Those sorry pieces of _crap_ don't deserve to be remembered, especially by _you_." Her head came up at the vehemence in his statement. "Sorry. I have strong opinions on people who cheat."

His stomach did a little flip when she smiled. "You always did." She crossed her knees and rubbed her hands together. "I'm glad we had this talk."

"Me too. I know you asked as part of my treatment."

"And _you_ asked to embarrass me." His head came up, eyes wide at her astute remark. "It's okay, Clint. Now that it's out of the way, maybe this…" she gestured between them, "…will get easier."

He chuckled. "Don't see that happening any time soon." The timer rang and they both got to their feet. "So what's the verdict, doc? Can I get back to my work detail?"

Naomi's thoughts chased each other across her beautiful features, and he knew it was because she let him see it. Then she nodded. "Of course. I'll send the necessary paperwork to Director Fury today."

"Thanks."

"We'll still continue the sessions for another week or two. If all goes well, we'll cut them back to twice a week then down to one. And hopefully, in a couple of months, we can stop them except on an as needed basis."

"Appreciate it. So three days? Same Bat Time, Same Bat Station?"

Again she laughed and the sound of it made him feel happiness for the first time since…well, since he couldn't remember when.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 5**

The door closed and Naomi moved over to the desk to fill out the paperwork that would send Clint back to work on light duty. If you could call assisting in the rebuilding of a city with a population of over eight million people "light duty." She guessed he would return to Stark Tower each night more tired than he'd ever been then get up and do it again the next day. Or he might not even bother going to the tower. Just sleeping where he could so he'd be onsite first thing in the morning. Of the two scenarios, that seemed the most likely. He wouldn't want to be away when there was still work to do. That's why he'd been so restless when she'd seen him in the gym, on deck or in the Mess Hall.

Clint's recovery from the incident in Canada was nothing short of extraordinary. Never had she had a patient make progress so quickly. She made a note to check out some of the things he'd told her. Not about the sex or his supposed relationship with Agent Romanoff. But other things that didn't add up. His dreams, for instance. How had he gone from nightmares and just plain bad dreams to sleeping through the night? Especially after having one that got him confined to a psych ward, even if it had been for less than a day.

Opening an email, Naomi sent a message to the CMO to do a full blood panel on Clint when he returned to the ship in a few days. She was glad he brought up their continued sessions. It would give him time off forcing him to rest so he wouldn't work himself into the ground because one thing hadn't changed in the last twelve years. He still worked hard and she was sure he played just as hard. And it was her job to make sure he was able to continue to do both as long as possible. Mentally anyway. The chime rang announcing her next appointment. With a sigh, she let him in.

~~O~~

Jogging back to his room, Clint took his duffle bag from the closet and began shoving clothes into it. Mostly sturdy pants and T-shirts over which he'd wear a jumpsuit or even a hazmat suit depending on the venue. The boots he was wearing were steel toed. He didn't need shaving items, but he did take his toothbrush and the bottle of Tylenol from his bedside table.

Setting the bag and his bow case near the door, he got into his jacket. Tugging at his sleeves, he felt more than a little guilt for his deception. He hadn't been lying when he told Naomi that he wasn't having nightmares. What he hadn't told her was how he was doing it.

The OOD greeted him with a nod. Instead of taking a quinjet, he took one of the smaller helijets. They could be flown like a helicopter or a small jet and didn't require a co-pilot. He ran through his pre-flight check list and was in the air within minutes.

~~O~~

The office had been remodeled to remove everything that would remind anyone of its former occupant. Over the last year, he'd made sweeping changes to policy and personnel that hadn't been popular. But then, he wasn't in this business to be liked by his employees. As long as they performed their jobs to the best of their abilities, they stayed. If not, they were…retired with extreme prejudice. And that suited him just fine.

With the connections he'd made in his former life and those he now commanded, he wielded enough power to influence others to do the dirty work. Or rather, the work that made the operation appear "clean." Laundering money was relatively easy compared to some aspects of the business, though all he really needed was the right person for the right job. And if someone showed a lack in one particular position, but an affinity for another, he would move that person creating a more efficient working environment.

And with his knowledge of how the judicial system worked, the business was booming and law enforcement could do nothing. More than once, the feds had tried to slip someone in undercover, but knowing what he knew, it never worked out. The agents were made and eliminated. All but one. And though it had happened years ago, it still irritated the hell out of him to have his success rate marred by this one failure though it hadn't hampered their operations even a little. Still, if he ever got the chance to correct it, he would.

The door opened and his chief lieutenant entered. She smiled and he found himself scowling instead of returning it. "Sir, we're ready."

~~O~~

Dr. Elaine Rivera opened the email from Naomi requesting a blood workup on Agent Clint Barton. She sent the request on to the lab with a copy to Clint informing him to stop at the Med Bay when he returned to the ship. He answered almost immediately. Shaking her head at his two word response, she set a reminder and went on to her next task.

~~O~~

Clint read the email from Rivera on his tablet and wanted to hit something. Instead, he sent the usual response before finishing off the rest of his meal. Many of the local restaurants that were once again open for business and provided meals free of charge for the workers. Today it had been the deli on Midway. He didn't even know what he'd eaten except that it had been on rye bread and it had filled the empty place in his stomach. Not his favorite, but you don't complain when people are being so generous. As far as he was concerned, food was food when he was on "company" time. On his own, he wanted something he liked and enjoyed, usually made by his own hand and accompanied by a nice bottle of wine. He missed his coffee too. What he could get out here was weak by his standards, but it was hot and gave him a kick in the morning.

Though they hadn't really been a team that long, he missed the Avengers too. That single day of fighting side by side to destroy the Chitauri army had forged a bond that couldn't be broken.

With a huff of frustration, he realized that coffee and the Avengers weren't all that he missed. Now that she was back in his life and he'd had to talk to her about intimate, private issues, he missed Naomi. And after thinking long and hard about everything, he finally recognized the fact that he'd been missing her for a very long time. In the lonely moments at night when he couldn't sleep, when he came back from being Loki's slave and especially when he saw something that reminded him of their time together. He thought he'd been missing having a special someone. Well, he was, and that someone was Naomi.

A boy about ten came into the room he'd appropriated as "his." It wasn't much. Barely twice the size of a closet in the rebuilt area of the community center, but it was a roof over his head the nights he stayed on-site, which was most nights and when he wasn't at the helicarrier or the occasional stop at Stark Tower.

"Hawkeye?"

"Hey, pal! What's up?"

Alex looked at him shyly, scuffing the toe of one dirty sneaker against the floor. "Me 'n the guys…"

With a grin, Clint automatically corrected Alex, "The guys and I."

"Yeah. We were wonderin'…"

"If I'd come out and play?" Tossing his napkin in the trash can, he rolled to his feet. "Let's go."

Whooping for joy and running ahead, Alex called out his triumph to his pals, a group of about nine boys and girls ranging in ages between seven and twelve. The kids of the neighborhood had adopted him as a sort of uncle and frequently came by to play.

"Could ya show us some more of that circus stuff?" one girl asked.

"That what you guys want?" A wave of excitement ran through the kids making Clint smile. Thanking is own foresight, he took off his boots, unzipped the front of his jumpsuit and stripped it off. Underneath he was wearing cotton shorts and a light blue T-shirt. Removing his socks, he stuffed them down inside the boots then walked out to the middle of the all-purpose court. "What d'you wanna see first? Sally?"

She was African-American, seven and had two little pigtails on either side of her head. "Can ya do some flips 'n stuff?"

Pretending to think it over, Clint stretched already sore muscles to loosen them up. If Alex hadn't come to get him, he'd probably be asleep by now, but he couldn't disappoint the kids. They had so little to keep them busy and engage their minds until the schools were finished that he relished this time and would never deny them unless it was unavoidable. "I can do better than that. You guys wanna help?"

"Yeah!"

"Great! Okay, let's start with…"

The entire group said together, "Walk on your hands!"

Chuckling, Clint shooed the kids back out of the way and with a quick back-flip he was on his hands, feet in the air as he "walked" across the floor. He flipped again and got to his feet to applause, spending the next hour performing for and with the kids.

Checking the time, he saw that curfew was coming up. "Okay kids, one more then home to bed." He ignored the groans. "We're gonna make a human pyramid. So Chad, Jaden and Assad, you're the biggest so you're on the bottom with me. Alex, Kenisha and Barrakat, you'll be the second row. Miki and Vinnie, you're the third row and Sally, you'll be on top."

"Hey, why does _she_ get to be on top?" The girl complaining, Miki was almost a head taller than Sally, the youngest of the group.

Clint tweaked Miki's nose making her giggle. "Because I said so, that's why." He clapped his hands. "Okay, this is how it's gonna go. Us big guys are gonna get down on our hands and knees with me in the middle, then the next row gets on our backs. Just be careful where you put your knees, guys. I'm not as young as I used to be." He waited while the second row climbed on. "Okay, Miki and Vinnie. You're up. Try not to move around too much or we'll all fall. Okay. Now Sally, be very careful and climb up to the top."

The little girl did as she was told and their pyramid was complete. A voice called out and they all looked up in time for several of the kids' parents to take photos. The second row began to wobble, a couple of the kids screamed and panicked. When the weight lifted from Clint's back, he quickly rolled onto his back and managed to catch Sally well enough she didn't get hurt. After the moment of fear passed, they lay all on the floor in a heap laughing and giggling.

He made sure the kids were all okay then Clint sent some of them off with their folks while he walked the rest the four blocks down to the shelter waving good-bye as they disappeared inside and the door closed.

Back at the center, he gathered up clean clothes and carried them into the locker room. It was the first part of the center to be completed because it had been less damaged than the rest of the building and surrounding area. Only the shower on the end worked at the moment so he stripped off his dirty clothes, showered, brushed his teeth and dressed for bed.

He lay on his bedroll, laced his fingers together over his stomach and just before he fell into a deep sleep he remembered he hadn't taken his meds.

~~O~~

Naomi stormed out of her father's office so fast she almost ran Hill down without even noticing. _He is so…__maddening!_ She wanted to say infuriating, but didn't feel like chuckling at the irony. _How can these people _work_ with him? Maybe it's just me._

She didn't stop walking until she reached the Mess Hall, bypassing the line and going straight to the dessert counter. Without having to say a word, the service person handed her a pint of ice cream. Grabbing a spoon, she wedged her thumb under the edge of the lid, but it wouldn't come off. She growled and was about to throw it across the room when a hand snatched it from her.

Clint pried the lid off then handed both back before resuming his seat in the corner where he kept an eye on the door. With a smirk, he said, "I see Ben and Jerry are still your best friends."

"Very funny." Scooping out a spoonful, she sucked it off the spoon waiting for the psychological effects of the chocolate to do their work. He smiled and she knew he was remembering their shared past again. Good. At least he hadn't lost some of the happier memories. Seeing that they were being watched, Naomi cleared her throat and dropped her eyes back to the ice cream. "Um, thanks. I'll just…"

Clint looked around the room. Less than half the tables were occupied. He pulled out the other chair at his table nodding for her to join him. "Kinda crowded in here. Wanna share a table?"

Naomi hesitated though she wasn't sure why as she flashed back to the first time they'd shared a meal or even a real conversation together, and with a smile, she said, "Sure."

Leaning his elbows on the table, he let that grin stay in place. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, it just my…Director Fury. He's just so…" She stuck another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth before continuing. "We had another disagreement."

"Anything _I_ can do?"

One side of her mouth rose in a wry grin. "Stop him from being an a**."

Clint was already shaking his head. "Can't help you."

"Didn't really expect you to be able to, but had to try. Thanks for asking though. Um, going back to the city soon?"

"Yeah. We're in the middle of a big project rebuilding a community center for the kids and I had to return for our session. I'd like to get back."

Immediately, Naomi felt bad for taking him away. "We could've rescheduled it. That's more important."

He shrugged. "Going in the morning." She watched his fingers wrap around his coffee cup and remembered things better left alone. "Naomi, you tend to the emotional needs of the staff, but who takes care of _you?_"

"Dr. McNeil. I go to his office and…"

"That's _not_ what I mean." Clint took the spoon from Naomi, put the lid back on the container then slipped his strong left hand around her right. "Who do you go to for comfort? Someone to hold your hand when you have a bad dream or need a friend?"

Pretending to be shocked by the question, Naomi squeezed back. "At one time, that was _you_." He smiled and her stomach clenched telling her she wasn't as over him as she thought. "When I need a hug…depends on who I'm with, who I trust. Hasn't been much of that lately."

"I know, and I'm sorry it didn't work out for us." Pushing back from the table, Clint stood, releasing her hand at the same time, and tapped the top of the ice cream container. "You should put that away before it melts." Watching him leave, she smiled.

~~O~~

Keeping his expression pleasant until Naomi could no longer see him, Clint scowled as he hurried to his room. Opening his bow case, he lifted out the bow, its protective foam and opened the false bottom. He took out a small metal box, tucked it into his back pocket then used the chair to reach the vent in the ceiling.

Climbing up inside, he stuck a small penlight in his mouth and crawled through the ducts until he came to the room he was looking for. Moving his head around, he saw it was empty. It would be this time of day because the current resident would be on the bridge.

Easing the vent open, Clint swung his legs into the opening and lowered himself till he was hanging from his hands then let go landing lightly on the floor. The room was neat as a pin, everything in its place. No dust, no clothing tossed carelessly over a chair or in a wad on the foot of the bed. The only thing that seemed as if it didn't belong was the case on the desk.

Taking the box from his pocket, he pressed a button on the side, a light came on and a pad the size of a man's thumb glowed. He swiped it over the lock, hearing a click. Opening the case, he took out the first photo album and flipped the cover open. Quickly turning the pages, he set it aside and pick up the next.

When Clint got to the last album, he stared at the photo in the back, his eyebrows meeting over his nose in confusion then the confusion turned to anger. Taking a deep breath, he brought himself under control, purposely replacing the albums out of order.

Shoving the box back into his pocket and the penlight in his mouth, he made the return trip through the ducts to his room leaving the vent open in the room he'd just left. He wanted the occupant to know he'd been there, to confront him about his intrusion. Leaving the lights off, he sat down to wait.

~~O~~

From the table in the corner, Hill watched first Clint then Naomi leave the Mess Hall and turn in opposite directions. _They aren't fooling anyone except themselves_, she thought. The first time she'd seen them together, she'd checked their files and discovered they'd both been at NY Central at the same time. From the way they treated each other now, she could guess the outcome.

"What's _that_ all about?" Kripke sipped his coffee then took a huge bite of a blueberry muffin.

Chin in her hand and elbow on the table, Hill got a faraway look in her eyes. "They're living in that great state called Denial, Kripke."

"So how do we get them into the real world?"

"No ******* idea." Then a thought occurred to her. "But I think I know someone who can help."

Kripke's face lit up as he talked around the last bite of muffin. "Yeah? Who?"

Hill didn't say a word, just smiled as she got up and headed for the exit not noticing Kripke watching her with a infatuated smile. "See ya!"

~~O~~

The chime rang startling Clint out of the light doze he'd fallen into, thankful to his visitor for stopping the dream before Loki could get into full terrorist mode, and pushing himself upright in his seat. "Come in."

Fury came to stand in the middle of the small room, hands at his sides. "Tell me why you saw fit to invade my privacy, Agent Barton."

Shrugging offhandedly, Clint crossed his arms. "If I did, what're you gonna do about it?"

"If your answers are unsatisfactory, there could be hell to pay." The older man waited patiently for a response.

"It was a fact-finding mission to aid in creating a hypothesis."

Turning his head to better see Clint when he shifted in his seat, Fury asked, "Is this about Dr. Marks?"

"Naomi. Her _name_ is Naomi. She's your _daughter_ for God's sake."

"Are you telling me I don't know my own child?"

As much as he wanted to wipe that unreadable expression from Fury's face, Clint kept a tight rein on his temper. "You may _think_ you do, but _I_ know her better than you ever will at the rate you're going." Clint made a sound of intense frustration. "You think _leaving_ is the best thing. That separating yourself from them protects them. That might be the case, and it _might_ work for you, but _you_ making that decision for _me_ never worked!"

He sliced a hand through the air as he faced the director again letting the anger in his voice show in his eyes. "It nearly got me and Natasha killed on more than one occasion. Or don't you remember Budapest? If you hadn't interfered in the relationship Naomi and I had, I'd never have been in the position of having to run half-naked through the streets of Budapest being shot at. I'd've had the woman I loved waiting at home for me."

The tension in the small room, already high, climbed even higher when Fury's eye narrowed in anger matching Clint's. "That incident was _not_ in your official report, _Agent Barton_."

The emphasis Fury put on his name was meant to remind Clint who was boss. "It wasn't relevant to the mission. I was off the clock."

"Then why bring it up?"

"Because…" Softening his tone, Clint returned to staring out the window, arms crossed, but not really seeing anything. "Because having someone to come home to, someone in whom you can put your total and complete trust, makes you think before doing something…"

A small amount of humor crept into Fury's voice. "Stupid? Reckless? Irresponsible?"

Clint too allowed a moment of wry humor to come out. "I was going to say imprudent."

"So you're saying you might have still done it?"

The air of amusement vanished. "_Stop_ twisting my words, _Director_!" The stress on his title was meant as an insult to Fury and it was taken as such. "You're smart enough to know what not having a foundation, someone to keep you grounded, is like. Only problem is, you've got everything so classified we _can't_ know about your mistakes."

"Yet you've made it your business to do just that. Why?"

"For Naomi's sake. She deserves to know her father. To know that he never stopped caring about her even if he couldn't be there."

Fury assessed the carefully arranged bland expression now on Clint's face. "If I didn't know better, Agent Barton, I'd think you were still in love with my daughter."

Realizing that he'd given up too much, Clint had to get away and it didn't look like Fury was going to leave, so Clint pushed past him to the door. Then decided he'd come this far, why not go all the way? "That's because I am."

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 6**

Before Fury could question him about his "intentions", Clint stepped into the hall and kept going until he reached the conning tower, leaving Fury to work out this new complication on his own. Clint had enough to think about himself. He hadn't been sitting in the moonlight very long when a voice came over his comm.

"_Rivera to Barton._"

The crackle of interference made him wince. "Barton."

"_Did you forget our appointment?_"

With a wry grin, he got to his feet. "No. I'm avoiding you."

She chuckled. "_Just get you're a** down here before I send an armed escort._"

By now, he was on the catwalk and headed for the ladder that would take him back down to the lower levels of the ship. "Hope you're ready to receive casualties then, doc." He enjoyed teasing Dr. Rivera, and she gave as good as she got. They flirted with each other outrageously, but nothing ever came of it. Nothing ever would. Mostly because he didn't want her husband, a virologist, to try to kill him. And he could do it. Slip something into his food or water, and Hawkeye comes down with some mystery disease. Infidelity was _so_ not worth getting his a** kicked over. So they flirted and bantered, even in her husband's presence. And all Orlando did was chuckle, shake his head and go back to playing with his germs.

"_Make it quick, Hawkeye. I have a date with my husband in an hour._"

"Roger that. Barton out." Clint picked up the pace, arriving in the Med Bay in under two minutes. "Sorry, doc. I really did forget."

Rivera, a brunette with a plain face and a lean body, gestured him to the exam table. "I would say don't let it happen again, but we both know it will."

"Why're we doing this, doc? I had blood work done when I got back from Canada." The needle pierced his skin, and he flinched, but it was his conscience. He still regretted tricking Naomi into signing his return to work. Even he knew he wasn't ready to resume missions, but he was tired of sitting around being bored.

"Just routine, Agent Barton." She removed the tourniquet, labeled the tubes of blood and quickly bandaged the area. "Now get out of here before I decide to do exploratory surgery."

He jumped off the table, fingering the bandage on his inner arm before pulling his sleeve down over it. "You're a peach, doc. Bye."

Five minutes later, he returned to the Mess Hall, grabbed a sandwich and ate it on the way back to his room. The night before, he'd been at the community center and had spent all that time with the kids surprised at how much he'd enjoyed the time. He never thought he would ever be this comfortable teaching kids and learning from them as well, but he was.

His teen years had been spent entertaining adults and children, so when he left the circus he wanted nothing more to do with the amusing the masses. And while roaming from town to town, finding work where he could, he hadn't the time to get to know anyone let alone the kids. Now here he was doing just that, and it made him feel not just good, but content in a way hadn't been for a very long time.

He also realized that the night he and the community center kids had made the human pyramid, he'd slept without the pills. Not only that, he'd slept soundly and without the dreams that had plagued him since Loki had came to Earth, and he was smart enough to see a connection.

Sharing this insight with Naomi was his first thought, but it was late and he didn't want to disturb her. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Maybe instead of telling her, he could show her. That settled, he lay down on the bed, closed his eyes and was soon asleep. Morning came around and with it Clint had another idea. He dressed, hurried through breakfast and went to Naomi's office where he was admitted right away.

Naomi didn't hide her surprise. "I thought we'd canceled our appointment."

"We did." Coming around the desk, he took her hand resting on the keyboard. "Come on."

"Where're we going?"

He smiled, his blue-gray eyes twinkling with humor. "New York. The center needs a room painted, a couple walls that need to be knocked down, and some plumbing work done."

"But, I can't just _leave_, Clint!" He ignored her protests by shutting down her computer and lifting her out of her seat. "I have patients, reports…"

"It's been cleared. You're good to go." In the hall, he kept dragging her until she stopped fighting him though she wasn't done objecting to the interference.

"Clint! Please, you're hurting my hand."

Releasing her, he kept a wary eye out in case she tried to bolt. "After our talk last night, I realized that you need something that I can give you _now._ It may not be what you _want_, but it's something you _need_, and I think you'll enjoy it. So please, come with me."

He knew the moment she gave in by the glimmer of annoyance in her brown eyes. "Fine. I just need to pack a few things." Naomi opened her door and before she could say or do anything to keep him out, he followed her inside. "Clint!"

Crossing his arms, he gave her a stubborn stare. "Not leaving. And it's not like I haven't been in your bedroom before."

"That's _not_ the point. We're not…we don't _have_ that relationship anymore and anyone seeing us coming in or going out together will assume…"

"That I'm sleeping with you _and_ Natasha?" He shrugged. "As long as _we_ know the truth who cares what others think?"

She huffed at him, hands on her hips, suddenly very serious. "I can't afford _not_ to care, Clint. Right now, I'm your therapist. If there were any question of an inappropriate relationship between us, I could lose my license."

"I see your point. You have five minutes." And before she could say another word, he left the room going to lean on the opposite wall, hands in his pockets.

~~O~~

Standing at parade rest, Fury stared out the window watching the crew working on the external equipment. A squad ran in formation and off to the left two lone figures climbed into a helijet. Behind him, he heard Kripke give clearance to Clint. The airship took off, banked and headed north. "Agent Kripke, who authorized Dr. Marks to leave with Agent Barton?"

"Agent Barton was already scheduled to depart. At the last minute he added Dr. Marks' name to his itinerary. I assumed…"

"Well, you assumed wrong." After a moment's thought, Fury mused out loud, "It's not your fault. Agent Barton believes it's easier to seek forgiveness than to get permission, though I doubt he regrets his actions."

Kripke looked uncertain. "Yes, sir."

~~O~~

There was room enough for six in the helijet, but there was only Naomi and Clint, their bags sitting on the floor in the back. What had surprised her was that Clint had talked to her more on this trip than he had since she'd arrived on the ship, not counting their therapy sessions. She found this Clint very enthusiastic about his work at the community center and with the kids. He even planned on teaching them archery as soon as the center was up and running again. Until then, he seemed to get great enjoyment out of the time spent not working.

He landed at a small private airport that had somehow escaped with only minor damage. They got out and walked to the hangar where Clint checked in then led her over to a motorcycle stored in the far corner. She hadn't been on one since she broke up with her boyfriend Ben in high school.

"You expect me to ride on that all the way to The Bronx?"

"Yeah. Why not? Makes it easier to get around the areas that still have debris in the streets."

Not seeing any good reason not to take the bike, Naomi agreed. "Okay, but if I get blisters on my fanny, I'm blaming _you_."

"You'll be fine." He handed her a helmet, but didn't wear one himself. Swinging his leg over, he started the bike then waited for her to get on behind him. Their bags had been stashed in the compartment under the passenger seat. Briefly, she glimpsed a pair of handguns lying in the bottom.

"If you say so. Mind if I ask a question?"

He raised the kickstand and revved the engine. "Anything."

She hesitated, not sure why then thought, _what the hell_. "Do you still carry concealed weapons when you're out in public?"

With a grin, he said, "What do _you_ think?"

And before she could respond, he'd taken off. Naomi barely had a chance to wrap her arms around his waist to keep from falling off. And because she was pressed up against his back, the one in his waistband was evident. "I think you do. What this one? A Glock? Berretta? SigSauer? It's too big to be a Ruger."

"Sounds like you know a lot more about weapons than you used to."

She shrugged though he couldn't see it. "Had to in order to be approved for employment with SHIELD. I can even fire one now and manage to hit the target most of the time."

"I can help with that, if you like."

"That'd be great. Barely passed my quals. Had to take them three times."

A few minutes later they were on the highway. Pre-invasion, this road would've been bumper to bumper at this time of day. There was still a lot of traffic, but not nearly as much. And the city was taking the opportunity to upgrade some of the more traveled roads and highways, this one included.

Getting off the highway, they rode down one side street after another until they reached an enormous building with basketball and tennis courts, and a huge playground that needed major repairs. Clint pulled up beside the main building, shut off the engine and waited for Naomi to get off before dropping the kickstand. "It's designated as a FEMA shelter, but the kitchen isn't ready yet so it's just the two of us staying there. The rest of the crew will be around soon and we'll get started."

"So you sleep here and not at Stark Tower?"

"Yeah. The roads between here and there still suck. It's easier to just hang out."

Shouldering her bag, she followed Clint inside to the sports equipment room he had apparently been sleeping in. Stacks of jumpsuits that needed washing, a bedroll, an overflowing trash can and another with recyclables cluttered the open area. Setting her bag on the floor, she waited for him to tell her what happened next. "Do I get one of those cool jumpsuits?"

"You do." With a grin, he tossed her the cleanest one. "Might be too big. Can't be helped."

Going into the locker room, she removed her jacket and her sneakers before getting into her work clothes. As he'd said, it was too big so she rolled the sleeves and legs up so her hands and feet were exposed. Out in the main room again, she took a pair of steel-toed work boots from her bag and put them on. While she'd been in the locker room, Clint had pulled a jumpsuit on over his clothes and was tying the laces of his boots. He looked up at her and she gave him a sloppy salute. "Reporting for duty, chief."

"Hope you're ready for this. We need to knock down the play area. It's gotta be completely rebuilt from the ground up."

"I'm ready."

Clint went to the back of the equipment room and returned carrying hardhats, tool belts, safety goggles, noise reduction gear, and work gloves, two sets of each. Naomi adjusted her tool belt to fit and strapped it on leaving it resting low on her hips just like she'd seen the construction workers and contractors do. While his back was turned, she allowed herself to admire the way he looked.

The jumpsuit was just loose enough that it only hinted at the firm biceps, well-muscled chest and washboard abs she knew it hid making her libido skyrocket. There was just something so incredibly _sexy_ about a man dressed for a hard day's work. Especially _this_ man.

She just couldn't help herself. While his back was to her, she crossed the space between them. He turned toward her, thumbs tucked into the belt on either side of the buckle, his hardhat cocked to the side. His eyes widened in shock as she grabbed handfuls of the loose material and pulled him to her for a hot kiss.

~~O~~

Clint hadn't heard Naomi move, but sudden there she was kissing him. No tongue, no demands, just their lips pressed together. His shock was such that by the time he thought to respond she'd released him and headed for the door obviously expecting him to follow. Unfortunately, he could barely walk now because her kiss, however it was meant, had sent most of his blood heading south of the border. And while he was trying to figure out what to do about his current condition, Naomi called out to him, her voice echoing from the vast indoor court.

"_You coming, Clint?_"

"Be right out!" With a loud groan, he sat down in the chair he'd appropriated from somewhere he couldn't remember at the moment, planted his elbows on his thighs and dropped his head into his hands.

"_What did you say?_"

With a loud huff of frustration, he got to his feet again. The babble of voices told him that the rest of the crew had arrived. "Nothing! Go on ahead. Manuel will give you something to do until I get there."

"_Okay._" In her tone, he heard a shrug then her footsteps faded away.

When he was certain he was alone, he groaned again. "Sonofa*****! I'm a dead man!"

Clint got up and headed for the bathroom to relieve his pain. A loud crash that sounded nothing like the usual workday noises caused him to change directions. He took off running, his boots pounding on the hardwood floor, tiled floor, concrete sidewalk then the grass as he raced to the playground.

He arrived just in time to see Naomi swing the sledgehammer at the last support of the nearest end of the playground and send a thirty foot section crashing to the ground accompanied by cheers from the rest of the workers. His relief that no one had been injured was great enough that his not-so-little problem had gone away on its own.

As Clint came near, he was greeted by members of the group. Newcomers merely smiled and nodded. As soon as Manuel deemed it safe, they started dragging the loose boards away to be stacked near the dumpster for pick up by the city.

Manuel wandered over to stand next to Clint, his arms crossed and a satisfied smile on his face. "That Naomi has a _lot_ of rage inside her. She swung that sledgehammer like a pro."

Again hooking his thumbs into the tool belt, Clint grinned. "That she does, Manny."

The big Hispanic man slapped him on the back. "That's some girl you got there."

"She's not my…"

"We been workin' together for a couple o' months now, Clint. How come you never mentioned you had a girl? If I had a hottie like that waitin' for me at home, I sure wouldn't be spendin' my nights in the shelter with _those_ monkeys." He pointed his chin at them, watching as they fell all over themselves and argued over which of them would help Naomi.

Clint rolled his eyes at the term of endearment Manuel used for the young men he'd been supervising since the clean-up began. Most were just boys, teenagers to early twenties, and needing something to keep them out of trouble until their lives got back to normal. Instead of answering Manuel's question, Clint shrugged and gave him an enigmatic smile. "If she was your girl, would _you_ want her around your monkeys?"

Manuel grinned conceding the point. "So you keep her on a short leash?"

Chuckling out loud, Clint punched the other man on the shoulder. "More like _she_ keeps _me_ on a short leash."

Naomi noticed him then, and flashed him a bright smile as she and another woman picked up a chunk of wood and carried it to the dumpster. He waved and reiterated his previous prediction. _I'm a dead man!_

~~O~~

Never having been so tired, Naomi had to force herself to put one foot in front of the other as she and Clint returned to the center's equipment room for the night. She started to sit down, stopped by Clint's hand on her upper arm. "No you don't. You sit down and you won't wanna get back up again."

She couldn't help whining. "But, Clint. I'm tired. Just lemme go to sleep."

"Shower then eat. You expended a lot of energy today and need to refuel."

Taking a towel and sleepwear from her bag, she did as she was told. The bathroom was mostly finished except for some fixtures that were missing leaving the only the stall at the far end working.

Peeling off her jumpsuit and the clothes she'd worn underneath, she let them fall to the floor hoping she'd never see them again. Inside the stall she found some generic soap and a bottle of shampoo, both donated by a chain discount store. Not caring either way, she turned on the water, groaning as she stepped under the hot spray.

A few minutes later, she actually felt nearly human again. She dressed in a pink tank top and shorts, drying her hair as she made her way back to where they'd be sleeping. Her steps faltered as she realized the implications of their sleeping arrangements. They were the only two people in this huge building. No matter what went on, no one else would ever know. Not that she was thinking of doing anything special. She was too tired for anything more strenuous than chewing. But now that the thought was in her mind that she and Clint were all alone, it wouldn't leave her be.

Naomi found Clint sitting in the lone chair, swiveling back and forth.

"Sorry I took so long. Once I got under the hot water, I didn't want to get out again."

He rose gracefully to his feet reminding her of the fantastic abilities he'd displayed one cold winter afternoon. "No problem. Dinner's in the mini 'fridge in the corner. Water, maybe juice too. The restaurants take turns providing meals so we never know what we'll get."

"Can I take it intravenously? I really think I'm too tired to chew."

Clint chuckled as he took his turn in the shower, Naomi watching him walk away with a small bounce to his step. How could he not be more tired than she was? The answer was just out of reach of her tired mind. Going to the fridge, she took out two to-go containers and two bottles of water. In a dark corner she found a microwave. Reserving the garlic bread, she popped the first one in and set the timer for the deep dish manicotti.

By the time she'd nuked the second container, Clint had come back. He too wore shorts and a black T-shirt, and Naomi did her best not to stare at his bare feet and lightly haired legs. She passed him a plate and plastic silverware. He took it and sat down on the blanket he used as his bed, leaning against the wire cage that held the basketballs leaving the chair for her.

They ate in silence, and Naomi was glad because she didn't want him to bring up their kiss this morning. It had been an impulsive gesture and she'd regretted it almost immediately, yet she didn't. And she was certain he would bring it up at some point. She didn't have to see the occasional glances he cast her way to know he was wondering about her reasons for doing it.

They finished eating, tossed their trash out then Clint took the full bag from the can and tied the built-in drawstrings. "I'm gonna take this to the dumpster and do a perimeter check."

She smiled and shook her head. If he'd said something like that twelve years ago, she'd have known more about his job because she wouldn't have settled for less than knowing everything, classified or not.

When Clint returned, he moved his bedroll so he would be sleeping between her and the door. A moment of awkwardness crept in to keep them company and when Naomi tried to kick it out, it scuttled into a corner and glared at her. Dropping down onto the folded blanket, she covered herself with a sheet, turned on her right side and listened to Clint getting comfortable just five feet away. She closed her eyes hoping that being so close to him wouldn't keep her awake…

And the next thing Naomi knew it was morning. The beginnings of sunrise were peeking over the horizon giving just enough glow through the frosted windows for her to be able to see her way to the bathroom. She started to roll onto her back, but was prevent from doing so by Clint. At some point during the night, he'd moved and now they were spooning, his arm a tight band across her stomach and his breath feathering over the skin of her neck.

Very carefully, Naomi lifted Clint's hand so she could scoot away before he woke up and the moment got awkward again. However, in his sleep, he wasn't having any of that. He tightened his hold pulling her even closer, murmuring in her ear, "Just five more minutes, babe."

The husky, warm, sleep-filled tone of his voice brought back the memories of their time together once more. She reached over and touched his face feeling the fuzziness of his beard tickling her palm. He hadn't shaved in several days and his beard came in thick. "Clint? Wake up."

"Mmm." He rubbed the side of his cheek against hers. "Don't wanna. Can't we sleep a little longer?" Rolling her eyes, she stretched a little farther and down to his waist digging her fingers into the flesh there. That got his attention. He came instantly awake, rolled away and was on his feet so fast Naomi hadn't time to react. "What the-Oh, crap!"

"It's okay." Grinning, she turned onto her back and extended her hands to be helped up. On her feet in front of Clint, she looked up into his blue-gray eyes and smiled. That smile turned to-she wasn't sure, but suddenly she was in his arms and being kissed in a way she hadn't since their last night together so long ago. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his lips were torn from hers to make their way down and around to the base of her throat.

A door slammed somewhere and that brought them to their senses. His arms still around her, he kept his eyes locked on hers, asking for her forgiveness. With a gentle smile, her hands came up to his arms to push him away just as someone knocked on the door. Putting her behind him, he took the Glock from its hiding place under the chair, holding it out of sight. "Yeah?"

"Clint? It's Manny. We gettin' started soon? The monkeys're gettin' restless."

"Overslept. I'll be right out." Manuel's footsteps faded followed by the exit opening and closing again. "I'm…"

The passion he'd stirred in her was gone as quickly as it came and she raised her hand. "Don't!" Gathering up her jumpsuit and boots, she went into the locker room to change.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 7**

Hours later Clint was still kicking himself for giving into his baser instincts. But to be fair, Naomi had done the same when she'd planted one on him the day before and again when she allowed him to kiss her.

And then there was waking up cuddled together. His subconscious had taken over while he slept and done what he'd wanted to do from the moment she'd come into his room at the hospital in Niagara Falls. He tried to tell himself that leaving her alone was the best for both of them. The hard part was believing. What he'd told Fury was the truth. He _did_ still love her and always would, but being together for eternity wasn't an option. Or was it?

Going to the cooler provided by a local business, Clint took out a bottle of water and drank deeply. They'd finished demolishing the playground and the new wood had been delivered just before lunch. But first the ground had to be prepared and that would be done tomorrow. He was about to rejoin the others when his SHIELD issued phone vibrated against his backside. Digging it out, he scowled and swore at the message from Agent Hill. How could Fury be sending him on a mission _now?_ And why? Naomi hadn't released him to full duty yet.

Approaching the group, he clapped his hands for attention. "Take a break! Twenty minutes."

The group scattered so fast he might've said "free beer." Shaking his head, he waited for Naomi to join him at the cooler, a bottle already in his hand and the top cracked open. "Fury's sending me on a mission."

"So soon? That was fast." She took a long drink, stalling it seemed. "I signed your release this morning. And no, it didn't have anything to do with what happened. If I didn't think you were ready, I'd never have signed off."

Clint was touched by her faith in him, and it made him feel guilty all over again. "Listen, when I get back from this mission, we have to talk."

"Good talk or bad talk?"

"Your call." He pulled a towel from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "I have to stop at Stark Tower on the way, if you'd like to meet the rest of the Avengers."

Naomi's eyes lit up. "Really? That would be great! I've only met the Black Widow and Iron Man."

Wincing, he waved a hand. "Just make sure you call them by their given names and not their alter ego."

She grinned impishly, batting her eyes. "Does that mean I can't call you Hawkeye?"

~~O~~

Clint opened his mouth to respond when raucous kids voices reached them just before their owners. They swarmed around Clint totally ignoring Naomi. The youngest, Sally, tugged at his pants leg. "Hawkeye, can ya show us some more circus stuff?"

Bending over so he was face to face with the little girl, Clint grinned. "You bet." By now the rest of the work crew had returned watching their interaction with amused curiosity. "We're gonna be done here soon, so go play for a little while."

A chorus of agreement went up around them as they took off running and laughing. Naomi covered her ears until they'd moved out of range. That she was shocked at Clint's behavior toward the kids bothered her. Everything she knew about him showed her that he would be great with kids. Well, she was about to see it firsthand.

They finished cleaning the play area and Clint sent the others on their way before stripping out of his jumpsuit. Following his lead, she did the same even down to going barefoot. That apparently was a signal for the kids because they came running. "Ready? Today were gonna do something different."

The new boy who'd been let in on the fun raised his hand. "Mr. Hawkeye, sir, was ya really in the _circus?_ Vinnie said ya were, but I didn't believe 'im."

"What's your name, pal?"

"Owen."

Naomi's eyebrows together over her nose. The Clint she'd known would've taken exception to having his veracity questioned even by a child, but not this time, he touched the boy on the shoulder giving him a serious expression. "Well, Owen, it's true. I worked with three different circuses from the ages of twelve to eighteen. On stage, I was known as the Amazing Hawkeye."

Kenisha raised her hand. "Can you show us some day?"

"Sure." He clapped his hands. "So what about some juggling?"

He jogged over to the motorcycle they'd ridden in on, opened a concealed compartment and returned with a set of three matching balls, and for the next twenty minutes, he entertained the kids with juggling tricks. As an encore, he also pulled coins from the kids' ears. Naomi was just a little annoyed because the one time it had been mentioned years ago, he'd told her he was only mildly proficient at it. He'd either practiced a lot over the years, or he'd been lying about that too. Not that it mattered anymore. He seemed to get great joy not only out of working with the kids, but also from the sense of accomplishment that came with hard physical labor. It had been a factor in her decision to release him to full duty. A decision which had backfired on her when he was immediately assigned to a mission.

She was brought back to the present when Clint warned, "Remember. Do _not_ try this on your own. I've been doing this for a very long time. It takes lots and lots of practice to learn and we use all kinds of safety equipment, none of which we have here."

"So when the center's all done, think ya can teach us to shoot?"

"You need permission from your parents first, but I don't see why not."

Naomi thought it was time she stepped in. "So what're you gonna show us now, Hawkeye?" When he looked over at her, she gave him some of his own back with a playful smirk. His answering smirk promised that she'd pay for that remark…and she did.

"I'm glad you asked. Kids, this is my good friend, Naomi. She's gonna help me with this next part. Everybody have a seat while she and I have a little meeting."

He drew her over to the motorcycle where the kids couldn't hear and she let him have it. "Clint, how could you put me on the spot like that? I don't know anything about…"

"You _do._ I've seen you dance and that's all acrobalancing is. A series of partner lifts combined with dance moves. Don't worry, you'll do great."

"Okay. Just don't drop me."

Her stomach did a little flip when he smiled and said, "Never. I know you're tired, so we'll only do a few. Just listen to me and hold the position until I say."

~~O~~

"Arabesque," Clint whispered in Naomi's ear. When she'd balanced on her right leg, the left stretched out behind her, he placed one hand on her ribs and the other on the inside edge of her upraised leg and lifted her above his head. "I'm going to throw you up so you flip over onto your back and catch you. Ready?"

Naomi nodded and the world spun crazily just before she landed in his arms. He put her on her feet again, leaving his hands on her waist. "_Petit sissone_, pirouette, _plié_, and lift."

He was glad she didn't question his directions as they ran though a few ballet type moves. "_Jeté_, arabesque then lean to the right." She performed the moves ending up to his right. He held onto her upraised foot and she leaned to her right then he pulled her back toward him, one hand under her arm, the other on the inside of her upper leg, lifting her into the air with her back arched. She rolled down the front of his body, right arm extended. He took her hand and led her into a series of pirouettes. "Back bend. Onto your back. Now do a bridge kickover then take my hand and curtsy."

Clint and Naomi finished to applause not only from the kids, but the adults who had stayed to watch. With a smile, Naomi whispered, "When did you see me dance?"

His own smile was in place with a hint of smugness around the edges. "A few days ago. Very nice."

"Thank you. Can we get something to eat now? I'm _starving_."

~~O~~

Clint parked the motorcycle in the garage of Stark Tower then led her to the elevators. They got out on the residential level where she followed him into a wide open area that boasted a wet bar, dining room, sitting area, fireplace, and from the scents drifting through the air, a full kitchen. The table was set with six places and soft music played in the background giving the place a warm, homey feel. A slender redhead dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt that looked too big for her walked toward them with a welcoming smile.

"Welcome back, Clint."

"Thanks. Dr. Naomi Marks, Pepper Potts. She's CEO of Stark International."

Pepper and Naomi shook hands. "I also play the part of Tony's conscience."

Naomi thought that an odd thing to say. "Pleasure to meet you. This place is amazing."

The others drifted over, fascinated by the fact that Hawkeye, the man who never let his emotions control him, had brought a woman to the unofficial Avengers headquarters.

Waving a hand at each, Clint made the rest of the introductions. "Thor, Captain Steve Rogers, Dr. Bruce Banner and you've already met Natasha." They shook hands all around. "Where's Stark?"

"He'll be up in a few minutes. He's just putting the finishing touches on a project." Pepper smiled enigmatically instantly making Clint wary to go by the change in his eye color. This Clint was different than the one she'd gotten to know when she first came to SHIELD. Probably because here, among his team, more of his Hawkeye persona came out. "Are the two of you staying the night?"

Pepper addressed the question to Naomi, but Clint answered. "Not this time. I have a mission briefing and Naomi has patients to see."

"Too bad. We're having _Boeuf a la Bourguignonne_ with an absolutely fantastic Petit Sirah."

Clint smiled. "Did you make it or did Stark?"

Bruce stepped forward. "Actually, it was me, with Thor's help."

The big man smiled, his voice booming even when soft. "Yes. I found the experience to be quite enlightening."

"Sorry I'm gonna miss it." He turned to Naomi. "I just need a few things from my room." Nodding, Clint jogged through the living room and down the stairs to the left of the fireplace leaving Naomi alone with legends. Pepper went to the bar and the rest followed so Naomi went along, and soon they were all enjoying a glass of the Petit Sirah. And she was right. It was _fantastic_.

"So how do you know Clint, Naomi?"

Bruce wasn't being nosy. Just genuinely interested, and rather than belabor their past, she simply told him, "We went to NY Central together a long time ago."

Like a hot breeze, Stark blew into the room, commanding everyone's attention. "Dinner ready?" Then he spotted Naomi and just for a second, she cringed, remembering his reputation and their last encounter. He changed direction, coming over and taking her hand. "Welcome to Stark Tower, Dr. Marks."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Tony." The billionaire barely paused for breath as he went to Pepper and gave her a kiss. "You're staying for dinner, of course."

Naomi started to answer, but Pepper beat her to it. "Clint has a mission, Tony."

Stark leaned on the edge of the bar, an air of boredom coming from him as if he'd already tired of the conversation. "Too bad. Banner and Point-Break slaved over a hot stove to make a fancy dinner for us tonight."

"Tony!"

Stark ignored her, one hand to the comm in his right ear indicating he had a call. To Naomi, he said, "Barton needs you. Down the stairs on the left."

That puzzled Naomi. Why would Clint need _her_ help to pack? "Okay." She made her way across the plush carpeting and down the stairs to the only door on the left. It was standing open and through it she could see Clint packing a rifle into a case. Beside it sat his bow case, the same one she remembered from before. "Hey. What d'you need?"

"Sorry?"

"Tony said you needed me."

Clint opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get the chance. His door slammed shut and locked as did the balcony door.

~~O~~

"What the _hell?_" Clint ran to the door, but it wouldn't open. He took out his knife to pry the cover off the door controls, swearing when a jolt of electricity zapped him. "JARVIS, open the door!"

"_I'm sorry, Agent Barton, but your command codes and protocols have been removed from my programming. I'm able to provide information and nothing else._"

Naomi jumped at the sound of the AI's voice, sounding very apologetic, but Clint couldn't spare the time to explain just now. "I don't _need_ information. Just open the ******* door!"

"_As I previously stated, sir, it's not within my programming to do so._"

Clint glared at the ceiling as if that were where JARVIS resided. "I wanna talk to Stark! _Now!_"

Instead of responding to Clint, JARVIS put him through to their host. "_Get comfortable, Legolas because you're not leaving until you and your lady friend work things out._"

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Clint felt his blood pressure rising and took several deep breaths to calm down. "Look, just open the door and I promise not to kill you in your sleep."

"_Not gonna happen._"

Embarrassed on his and Naomi's behalves, Clint couldn't look at her. Not yet. "Stark…"

"_Gotta go, Legolas. Dinner's gettin' cold. FYI - the air ducts are blocked just in case you try to escape. Oh, and Fury's been called about your mission. He's sending someone named Davis._" And with that, the comm line was disconnected.

A sound from Naomi turned Clint around. She had both hands over her face and her shoulders were shaking. Taking a step toward her, he reached out a hand then drew it back without touching her. "Stark is an *******. I'll find a way to get us out." She didn't respond as she continued to tremble. "Naomi? Are you okay?"

Naomi dropped her hands as she faced him, and now he could see that she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

"You think this is _funny?_"

She nodded, finally getting herself under some level of control. "Ye-es!"

He stared at her as if she'd gone mad. And she did look a little crazed, laughing with tears streaming down her face as she collapsed on the side of the bed. After a while, he began to see the humor and chuckled along with her, taking a seat next to her. "You said you were hungry. I'll make dinner."

Naomi got to her feet, walking to the end of the bed. "Let me. I've actually learned how to cook."

Flopping backward and rolling onto his side, he rested his head on his hand, raised up on his elbow and grinned. "Will wonders never cease. Should I put the Med Bay on stand-by?"

"Ha. Ha. Where's the bathroom? I'd like to freshen up first." Getting to his feet, Clint showed her to the bathroom door

Both were still dressed in the shorts and T-shirts they'd worn under their jumpsuits. He felt grimy and knew she must as well. "Why don't you take a shower then I'll shower while you cook?"

"Good idea except that I don't have anything to wear."

Belatedly, Clint went to the dresser and took out a T-shirt and pajama pants with a draw string waistband. "You can sleep in these and in the morning we'll just have to figure out how to get Stark to let us out."

"You really think he'll keep us locked up in here all night?"

One side of his mouth lifted in wry humor. "I wouldn't put _anything_ past Stark. He built the first Iron Man suit from scrap metal while being held prisoner in Afghanistan. And without him, Manhattan would be a radioactive crater and millions of people would be dead or dying from the fallout."

"I heard. He almost died. You _all_ almost died."

"Yeah, well we didn't do it for the glory, the parades or to have our names up in lights. We were defending our planet. That's a great motivator."

Naomi's stomach growled breaking the tension. With a smile, she went into the bathroom and moments later, the water came on. Rather than think about her in his bathroom, naked and wet, he rushed around the room gathering up all the weapons he'd hidden stashing them in the wall safe, except for the one still nestled in the small of his back. That one he hid in the end table farthest from the kitchen so he would have ready access during the night in case Stark made the monumental mistake of coming into the room while they were sleeping.

Then Clint went to the refrigerator and found that it had been stocked with supplies as had the cabinets. There was enough food to last them a week. Exactly what did Stark think this would accomplish? The two of them had already come to a sort of understanding. It wasn't perfect, but it worked for them.

To keep from dwelling on it, he jumped up on the bed and opened the vent, and just as Stark had said, it was blocked though air still circulated. He found the same thing in the other vents as well. Going to the main door, he pulled the cover off the controls, but when he attempted to bypass the lock he received enough of an electrical shock to discourage him from trying again. Next he tried the balcony doors, but encountered the same problem. Briefly, he considered shooting out the windows then climbing up to the helipad and using the rail gun on the helijet to shoot Stark, but already knew that would be futile.

Out of ideas for now, Clint took a T-shirt and pajama bottoms from the drawer and tossed them on the foot of the bed before pulling off his boots and moaning in relief as he wiggled his toes in the thick pile of the carpet. He lay back on the bed and was about to go to sleep when the shower shut off reminding him that Naomi had been locked in here with him.

And because of that, he was having all sorts of…ideas. Ideas he shouldn't be having. Not that they were _wrong_. He and Naomi were both unattached adults, but they didn't have the same relationship they had before. However, if they did this right, they could have something almost as good: a strong friendship. Different than the one he had with Natasha of course, but one to be treasured just as much. And all he had to do is keep Naomi from finding out that he was still in love with her. He'd been kicking himself for confessing to her father though he doubted Fury would mention it.

Naomi came out of the bathroom, her hair damp, looking as if she felt better and looking incredibly sexy in his clothes. "Dinner won't be anything fancy."

"Anything will be fine."

~~O~~

Naomi opened cabinets and the refrigerator finding everything she needed to make and enchilada casserole. She didn't normally use canned sauce, but whoever had done the shopping obviously took shortcuts now and then. Same with the refried beans. Or maybe Clint just wanted to be able to make a quick and easy meal sometimes.

She took out the refried beans, a can of corn and tomato sauce, and set them aside. From the refrigerator, she took the ground beef, salsa, shredded Cheddar cheese, a bell pepper, and flour tortillas.

Opening the cabinet over the stove, she took down a round casserole dish. A crockpot was jammed in with it, shifting when the baking dish was removed. There was a clunk that sounded nothing like glass hitting ceramic so she took down the crockpot and peered inside, her forehead crinkling in puzzlement. She kept it out, but put it out of her way while she worked making a note to speak to Clint later.

Because the kitchen was set up with ease of access for Clint's left-handedness, working was just a little awkward, but Naomi managed, and by the time Clint came out of the bathroom, she was in the process of "assembling" the casserole. She finished it off by sprinkling the top with the remainder of the cheese then put it in the oven and setting the timer just as Clint joined her. "It'll be ready in about twenty minutes."

"Good." He must've seen something in her eyes because he asked, "What's wrong?"

Going to the crockpot, she removed the lid and took out a Berretta. "How long have you been hiding guns in crockpots?"

To her surprise, he snickered, giving her one of his most distracting smiles. "Where do you think I hid it back in college when you came over unannounced?"

She laughed along with him. "Clever. I'd never have thought to look there."

"The first time, I used it because it was available. After that, it just became habit."

To open the cabinet with the glasses, she had to reach around him, but he refused to move out of the way. Choosing instead to give her another of those mischievous smiles, the one she'd fallen in love with so long ago. Unfortunately, or fortunately-she couldn't decide which-it still made her stomach flip over. She looked away suddenly shy and awkward with them in such close proximity. Taking down plates prompted him to act and he finally moved away enough that she could breathe again.

He carried the plates, napkins and silverware to the table while Naomi poured them each a glass of wine. While he'd been in the bathroom, she'd gotten a text from Dr. Rivera regarding Clint's blood work meaning they had to have a serious talk tonight and not about their relationship.

The timer dinged, but before she could act on it, Clint was there with oven mitts taking the casserole from the oven. She carried a trivet and serving spoon to the table and took her seat on the side leaving the end of the table for him, the host.

Not wanting to ask him to join her in saying grace, she briefly closed her eyes and thanked the Lord for the food and the continued good fortune of her family, friends and her planet. Her eyes flew open when Clint softly whispered "amen." She didn't say anything about this unexpected moment of spirituality they shared.

Clint scooped up a generous serving of the enchilada casserole and plopped it on her plate then served himself, all the while watching her with a wary eye. He always did know when there was something on her mind, and today was no different. "I received a text from Dr. Rivera."

"Oh?" Dropping his eyes to his plate, he chewed while pushing the rest of the food around with his fork.

"Where'd you get it?" A long sigh told her he would be telling her the truth, and that was good because if he lied to her now, there would be no way she could ever trust him again.

"I have a contact from an ongoing op. She provides a specific type of product for those in the community who don't have access to certain medications."

"And that's where you got the Ambien?"

He nodded. "It showed in my blood work, didn't it?"

Naomi took another bite of food, chewed and swallowed before answering. "Yes. I knew you wanted to get back to work, but didn't think you'd stoop this low to get your way."

"I _had_ to get back to the community center. To get back to work. That neighborhood has so little left after the invasion, sleeping in shelters or the homes of strangers that were opened to them. They need a safe place where they could go and know that things wouldn't always be so…dismal. I may not be able to give back the lives I took, but maybe, in some small way, this will give someone a chance at a better life."

Setting her fork down, she placed her hand over his so he would look at her. "If you'd told me this in the beginning, I would've understood. Going forward, just remember that there are two people you should never lie to. Your lawyer and your doctor. I won't rescind your release, but you can_not_ lie to me again, Clint. Not about anything."

Turning his hand over, he gripped hers tight before releasing it. "I won't." He gave himself a second serving, taking a huge bite before speaking again. "This is really good."

Letting herself be charmed by his smile, Naomi reached for her wine. "Just because I didn't know _how_ to cook didn't mean I couldn't _learn_. I'm Italian. It's a cultural rule."

His smile still in place, he asked, "Should I ask for page numbers and paragraphs?"

"It's an _unwritten_ rule. Like that carny's handbook of yours."

Chuckling, he used his napkin to wipe his mouth. "You almost bought it though, didn't you?"

"Not really. But I did think you were having fun at my expense with the talk about tightropes and the trapeze. Now I know differently." Relaxing back in his seat, he kept his eyes on her most of the time, though they did dart around the room, out of habit it seemed. But it was that guardedness that had kept him alive in the appalling and disastrous recent circumstances. Some habits were hard to break, even in your own home where you should feel a sense of safety and well-being.

Once he retired, she expected that he'd do the same for many years afterward. Always certain that danger was lurking at the door waiting to pounce when you least expected it. His smile changed, turned pensive as he folded his napkin and set it on the table. Luckily she didn't have long to wait to hear his thoughts. "Maybe Stark is right. We do need to figure this out. Stop dancing around each other as if we were on the worst first date ever."

To give herself time to calm her spinning thoughts, Naomi finished her wine then set the glass very carefully back in the exact same spot. "What do you suggest?"

"Start over. Go back to the beginning and leave all those past hurts where they belong. In the past. We can still talk about those intervening years, but let the anger and resentment go."

Naomi couldn't hide her shock and apparently he found the look on her face amusing because he smiled again. "You _have_ changed."

Shaking his head, he picked up his water glass and took a drink before continuing. "It's something I've learned in the last few months."

"So your time with Loki wasn't a complete fiasco."

"Wasn't talking about Loki." Suddenly, he leaned forward taking her hand in his and just holding it. "It was _you_." She didn't know what to say to that so she said nothing, just waited for him to make the next move. Again, he released her and when he stood, she did too, his right hand taking hers as if they'd just met. "Hi. I'm Clint Barton."

When he said go back to the beginning, he'd meant it. "Naomi Marks. Barton, you say? You look just like someone I knew a long time ago, but his name was Coulson."

"And I knew a woman who looked like you years ago, but her name was DeLuca." His eyebrows lifted as his eyes locked on hers with an intensity she hadn't experienced in a long time. "She was hot!"

"Oh? And what about now?"

Holding onto her hand, he drew her into his embrace. "She is even more beautiful now than she was then." Tears stung the back of her eyes at the sweetness of his tone and the darkening of his eyes as he lowered his head to kiss her.

~~O~~

Though Clint wanted to take their new relationship to its natural conclusion, he didn't. Instead, he led Naomi to the sofa and urged her to sit while he went to the closet, coming back with his guitar.

"Didn't know you played."

"Used to. Picked it up again during my recovery. The physical therapist suggested it and the juggling to restore dexterity in my hands and arms." He tuned the instrument then began to play the soft opening strains of an old Billy Joel tune.

~~O~~

Naomi curled up on the sofa while Clint sat at the opposite end. The tune he chose was familiar. _New York State of Mind_. It had been one of her mother's favorites while she was growing up. Clint's voice had a bluesy quality that fit him and the way he felt about himself and his life. The song also told her more than he ever could about his commitment to making New York City whole again. Her eyes closed as the music flowed, her body absorbing the emotion and craving for strength in the face of unspeakable odds that came out in his voice.

_Some folks like to get away,__  
__Take a holiday from the neighborhood.__  
__Hop a flight to Miami Beach or to Hollywood.__  
__But I'm takin' a Greyhound on the Hudson River line.__  
__I'm in a New York state of mind._

The last note faded away and still she kept her eyes closed. Her concentration was such that she didn't know Clint had set the guitar aside until he came to sit next to her, his arm around her shoulders. Without thinking, she snuggled into his embrace.

**TBC**

**A/N: **"New York State of Mind" is a song written by Billy Joel which initially appeared on the album _Turnstiles_ in 1976. Although it was never a hit song and was never released as a single, it has become a fan favorite and a song that Joel plays regularly in concert. Joel famously played the song at _The Concert for New York City_, the October 2001 benefit concert for the New York City Fire and Police Departments and the loved ones of families of first responders lost during the terrorist attack on New York City on 9/11. He reprised that theme, playing it during his set at 12-12-12, _The Concert for Sandy Relief_ at Madison Square Gardens in New York City on December, 12, 2012, where he changed lyrics to include cities like "Breezy Point."

The author's favorite version is by Jeremy Renner performed on the Jimmy Fallon Show. Ping me and I'll send the link.

~Sandy


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 8**

In the morning, Naomi awoke to the smell of coffee and breakfast cooking. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked around, uncertain at first where she was. Then she remembered falling asleep in Clint's arms. A moment of panic entered her mind until she realized that he must've moved her to the bed at some point. A quick check proved that she'd slept in his bed alone.

Getting out of bed, she went into the bathroom before going to the kitchen for coffee. Sipping the hot brew, she took the opportunity to watch him. As always, his movements were fluid, no wasted motion. Each step, each action precise and well thought out in advance. It was what made him good at his job, or part of it. His strict moral code was another. And that Loki had undermined that code, using it for his own purposes had greatly wounded the man she had loved. The man she still loved. "What're you making?"

"Omelets and toast. Almost done if you'll set the table."

While Naomi did as he asked, she grinned to herself at the cozy domestic scene they presented and found that it wasn't really something she'd ever expected to have again after her divorce. At the same time, it just seemed so right for them, right here, right now, in _this_ moment.

Taking down a pair of small glasses, she poured orange juice then took Marion blackberry preserves from the 'fridge while Clint slid the omelets onto plates and carried them and the toast to the table.

This morning, he took the seat she'd had the night before, leaving the end of the table for her. He was trying to tell her something, but wasn't really sure if that something was what she thought it was. Instead of giving herself a headache trying to figure it out, she just enjoyed the time they were spending together without the distractions of work and the expectations of others.

They bowed their heads for their silent prayers, saying "amen" together.

~~O~~

With breakfast over and the dishes done, there wasn't much left to do but stand and stare out at the city as it awakened from its slumber. New York was called by some the city that never sleeps, but those who lived here knew that it did though parts of it stayed awake twenty-four seven. But then most cities were like that, and New York had been the prototype.

And all beside the point.

Clint had left his guitar in the sitting area the night before and when he came out of the bathroom, Naomi was holding it, plucking the strings one at a time. The rapturous expression on her beautiful face did something to him that he couldn't explain. It wasn't sexual, exactly. Music had been a part of his life for so long he'd forgotten when he'd first been introduced to it. Probably as a baby listening to his mother sing along with the radio or in church.

He watched Naomi trail her fingers over the wood grain and along the curves of the body and couldn't help wishing she were doing it to him. Taking a seat next to her, he smiled when she did. "Wanna learn a few chords?"

"Sure."

Turning her just a little, he reached around with his left hand, showing her which finger to use for each string. "Put your index finger here, middle finger here and ring finger…here. That's a G. Now strum."

The chord sounded a little flat with one "dead" string making a _thunk_. "Oops."

"That's okay. Takes practice." Clint repositioned her fingers. "That's C. And this," again he moved her fingers into a similar yet different configuration, "is D. And the good thing is you can play lots of songs just using those three chords."

Naomi nodded her understanding then glanced over her shoulder at him. The left part of his chest was pressed against her back in such a way that he could feel it when she spoke, vibrating against him.

"You play any other instruments?"

"Drums a little and piano." He wiggled the fingers of his right hand in the air. "Physical therapy. My right hand was badly injured. Apparently my captors didn't realize I was left-handed."

Thankfully she didn't continue with that topic of conversation, but what she did was at once so much better and at the same time worse. She set the guitar aside, rolling her shoulders and turning her head side to side. "My muscles are _so sore_. Think I'll go take a hot bath."

"Let's try this first." Clint prevented her from leaving by placing his hands on her shoulders and kneading the muscles. The moment he dug his thumbs into the knots she moaned in pleasure.

"Mmm. That feels good."

Moving down her spine, he continued to work the sore muscles until Naomi leaned back preventing him from continuing. Her head came back onto his shoulder and turned to the side bringing their mouths so close together that Clint could feel her warm breath on his cheek. Her lips parted in invitation, but before he could take her up on it, the door opened and Stark breezed in through the door as if he belonged there. "I do hope I'm interrupting something."

Naomi sat up so fast she kicked the coffee table and Clint scowled. "What do you _want_, Stark?"

"Looks like you've worked out your problems. So," he spread his arms wide, "fly and be free, Hawkeye."

A moment ago, Naomi had appeared drowsy, but at the billionaire's announcement, she vaulted off the sofa to snatch up the bag with her dirty clothes.

"We're outta here then." Clint retrieved his bow case and the one with the equipment he'd need for his mission, took Naomi's hand and pulled her behind him out into the hall, up the stairs and out onto the helipad. Once in the air, Clint banked around and headed south toward Quantico. "Dinner when I get back?"

He glanced over at Naomi when she didn't immediately respond. She was looking out the window, one hand to her chin in thought. Without turning her head, she said, "No."

"I thought we worked everything out last night."

"We did. Dinner was great, the song romantic, and it was nice us being there together without all the…complications."

Making a sound of frustration, Clint flicked his eyes to the side then back to the skies. "Then what's the problem?"

Now Naomi did face him. "Us dating would be a _big_ complication. I'm still your doctor, Clint. Your therapist. It's unethical for us to have that sort of relationship."

Seeing everything slip through his fingers before he could even get a firm grasp on them again, Clint came up with the only possible solution. "I guess that settles it then. You're fired."

"Excuse me?"

"You're fired. Get someone else to take over."

The harness kept her from moving, but she still faced him in the small cockpit. "Clint, I _can't_. I'm the new kid on the block. What if Dr. McNeil regrets offering me this position just because you and I used to be a couple? The Counsel could make trouble for me if there were any question that you and I were having an intimate relationship. I would never be able to hold a position of authority in the community ever again."

"You've pulled that card before, and the answer is simple."

"But it's _not_ simple. _That's_ what I'm trying to tell you." She was upset and it came through loud and clear. "Can we just keep things…friendly?"

Clint was saved from answering by the ship's flight control. "_Flight to Charlie one niner seven. You are clear to land_."

"Roger, Flight." He concentrated on flying until the helijet was safely on the deck then climbed out. Without speaking, Clint handed Naomi her bags and they went inside together to find Fury waiting for them. "Something we can do for you, Director?"

Fury looked from one to the other and back. "An explanation would be nice, but I'll wait for a written report from each of you."

Naomi only nodded as she stepped around her father and disappeared down the hall leaving the two men alone.

"What time's the briefing, sir?"

"0900." The older man glanced over his shoulder to verify that the two men were alone. "Is there something you want to tell me, Agent Barton?"

Not one to squirm under close scrutiny, Clint kept his gaze locked on Fury's. "Nothing to tell, sir. Dr. Marks needed some time away so I took her to the community center I'm helping rebuild."

"That's not what I mean. Is there anything _else_ I should know?"

Before Fury could complete his thought, Clint said, "No." By his actions, Fury indicated that his last inquiry was personal. Fury's hands went behind his back, his weight evenly distributed. "I am formally requesting that my treatment be reassigned to one of the other SHIELD therapists."

Even with the patch covering the eye, the eyebrow on that side still lifted in a small show of surprise. "Does this have anything to do with our previous talk?"

With a small start, Clint realized what Fury was asking, and he laughed, which didn't set well with the director.

"Did I say something funny, Agent Barton?"

"That was ironic laughter, Director. You're asking my intentions toward your daughter. But you gave up the right to ask that question a long time ago."

Taking another step closer, Fury lowered his voice. "I did what I had to. The _why_ is none of your business."

Scoffing, Clint set the cases on the floor as if clearing the way for battle. It was an instinctive move, though he doubted he could take the older man. "Anything that happens with Naomi _is_ my business."

"And why is that?"

"Because my _intentions_ are to make sure she's happy. If reconciling with her father is what she wants, then I'm going to do everything in my power to see that it happens. Tell me this, why haven't you told her that you've been there for all her special days? Graduations and the like."

One shoulder twitched. Not a shrug, but as close as he ever got. "She's not ready to hear it."

"For a man who's called the most powerful and influential people on the planet idiots to their faces, you seem at a loss where Naomi's concerned." Softening his harsh tone, Clint gave one last piece of advice to his superior. "Talk to her anyway. She needs to know that her father isn't such a hardass after all."

And before Fury could say more, Clint picked up his cases and walked away.

The briefing was held as scheduled, and no one had seen anything awry between the colleagues, nor would they. When Clint left the meeting, his first thought was to go see Naomi. In their new roles as friends, and hopefully more, she should know the nature of this mission. However, he went against those instincts because he didn't want her to worry that he wouldn't come back again.

The archer left for his mission with lots to think about that would have to wait. Now he needed to be focused on the job at hand, a simple recon. In and out. No more than seventy-two hours then he'd be back on the ship. And this time he'd make sure it happened.

~~O~~

Naomi lay on her bed staring up at the ceiling, Clint's pendant in one hand, thumb and forefinger tracing the design on the stone. She'd looked it up. It was a Celtic five-fold, a flower-like pattern of four overlapping rings symbolizing the four elements: earth, fire, water and air. The fifth ring unites all the elements with a goal to reach balance between the four energies.

The lock-in at Stark Tower and the events that transpired there got Naomi thinking about the future, hers and Clint's. Now was not a good time to begin something that neither of them was ready for. Clint still had to come to terms with the events during the invasion, his brother's death and the possibility that his brother had been corrupt. And until that happened, all they could be was friends.

On the trip back from New York he'd indicated that he wanted more from their relationship than she could give him right now. And if the recent past had taught her anything, it was that he would do whatever it took to change her mind. All she had to do was stand firm and not give into her emotions. The ones that told her to take what he was offering and hold onto it with both hands so it wouldn't get away this time. When he came back, she would explain her reasoning more clearly. Surely he'd understand.

The clock told her he'd already left on his "simple recon" mission, ignoring the little voice in the back of her mind that kept telling her that history would repeat itself. The reasoning center of her brain reminded her that the odds of the same thing happening again were slim. To take her mind off of everything, she went to the desk and started her report on the work she'd done at the community center. That reminded her that she hadn't typed the notes for the last two annual evaluations for staff members so she called up those files and got to work on them, finally losing herself in her work.

**Satisfaction, Montana**

The formerly white four-door pick-up with a full gun rack rolled into Satisfaction, Montana. It pulled into the Exxon station and stopped at the first empty pump. The marquis advertised that they now had pay-at-the-pump services and the driver shook his head at the irony that in this day of cashless consumption, a small town in Montana would only now be getting up to speed.

Instead of taking the store up on their offer of convenience, he went inside, slapped three twenties and a ten on the counter. "Seventy on pump number four, please."

"You got it. Anything else?"

"Yeah. The name of a hotel or one o' them bed and breakfast places. As long as it has a bed and indoor plumbin'."

The cashier, an older man with a shiny bald head chuckled. "Not sayin' it's good or bad, but the Independence Hotel is just a couple blocks up on the right across from the custom log furniture store. Can't miss it."

"Thanks. Where can a guy get a cold beer, hot food and maybe a little female companionship?"

The cashier handed the stranger his receipt. "Keep goin' past the hotel for another half mile. Palladium Road Bar and Grill. Can't miss it. My son's band is playin' there tonight."

Returning the man's smile, the driver, with tongue in cheek, asked, "It's not across from the taxidermist, is it?"

"Nope. Ken's Used Cars and Carpet Installation." The bell rang announcing another customer. "Enjoy your visit, son."

"Do my best." The driver pumped the gas, wiped his hands on a paper towel taken from the roll he kept under the front seat, buckled his seatbelt and drove away. Ten minutes later, he let himself into room 404 of the Independence Hotel. The room was small, but nothing he couldn't handle. He'd been in places like this before and would again. It was the nature of his work. Some rinky-dink hotel in Backwater, Montana this month and a five-star hotel on the Champs-Élysées the next.

He'd only be here a few days, hopefully, but still he unpacked before taking out his cell phone and dialing a number activated just for this op. "Hi, honey…yeah, got here just fine…no, I won't forget to stop at your sister's on the way home…love to you and the kids…bye."

From the false bottom of his suitcase, he took a small electronic gadget three by three inches. Whistling tunelessly, he walked around the room scanning for hidden cameras and recording devices. Finding none, he returned it to its hiding place and took out the Desert Eagle 1911. It was cliché, but he preferred a Glock or Sig. However, the Eagle fit the persona he'd taken on for this job. Steve Smallwood. Sometimes the techs had a sense of humor…and sometimes they didn't. It all depended on which one you got.

He sat on the side of the bed, yanked off his boots, removed his cap and the down vest he wore over his flannel shirt and lay down with a groan. He'd been driving for hours and hours setting up his AKA's background. It had to be beyond reproach or this op would go south in a big way.

Before falling asleep, he set the alarm on his phone to wake him just at sunset so he could prepare for a night of drinking and getting to know the locals. Once they trusted him, then he could get the info he needed to take down one of the country's biggest crime syndicates.

For over a decade, his department had been trying to infiltrate the organization. Every operative who tried had been found dead within a week of being brought into the fold. Then when the compound was raided, it would be abandoned and destroyed by explosives leaving behind no clues as to their current whereabouts.

When he first joined the department, there'd been rumors circulating about an agent who had managed to survive after being left for dead by this same syndicate. But either no one knew the truth or they weren't saying. It wasn't like he hadn't tried to check it out. His leads just didn't go anywhere.

The reasons for looking this phantom up weren't difficult to understand. Anyone who could go up against a group as ruthless these guys and live to tell the story was someone he wanted to get to know, to learn from. Until then, he'd just do the best he could and not worry about things he couldn't change.

~~O~~

Clint made the guy as a fed the second he walked through the door. It was the way he carried himself as much as the seat he chose and the wariness in his eyes above the two days growth of beard and friendly smile. No one else noticed him except maybe a cluster of single women drinking longnecks at a table near the dance floor and the bored server who took his order. A group of rednecks leered at the girls, but were ignored.

The band, Revolver Junction, had a decent sound, though the secondary guitarist had at least one string out of tune. At the break he'd go have a word with the guy or it would drive him nuts all night.

Fury called this a recon, but all he was there to do was observe the locals and take photos of anyone who didn't seem to be who they said they were. The camera in his glasses filmed everyone in the room just in case he missed someone. Including the couple in the corner who were making out so enthusiastically that all he needed to do was add in some sound effect, some inappropriate music, a few cutaways that hinted rather than showed what was happening, and he'd have his own porn video shot on location. He could send it to Gina and made a tidy little profit. Not that he needed it, what with Barney's bequest sitting in that offshore account just waiting for someone to tell it what to do. It had started out as three million, but was down to less than one now. His brother had been as crooked as the highway into town and now that money was doing good for a needy community.

Taking a pretzel from the bowl, he munched while he scoped out the rest of the room. It was a Friday night and the place was nearly full. He'd give stay till midnight then pack it in until tomorrow. If he got the opportunity to question some likely suspects, he'd do so. Otherwise, he would be on his way out of town Sunday evening and back on the helicarrier by midnight local time where he planned on cornering Naomi for another talk.

The night Stark locked he and Naomi in his room had been great. They'd made a new start by agreeing to leave the past alone and just go forward. Yet when Clint had suggested a night out, she again brought up the fact that she was still his therapist. He didn't understand why she couldn't get Hoffman or McNeil to take over his treatment so they could explore their relationship a little deeper. Not for making love, but just getting to know each other again as friends.

Leaving his jacket over the chair, he took a stroll around the room to catch those he couldn't see from the corner. As he passed the rednecks, one of the guys purposely tripped him. Instead of making an issue of it, he shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry. My fault."

The biggest of them laid a hand on Clint's shoulder. "Pretty cocky for a little guy, ain't ya?"

Clint carefully removed the hand as if the guy had something contagious. "Hands off the merchandise, buddy. I _said_ I was sorry. Now let it go and no one'll get hurt."

They laughed loud enough and long enough that the band stopped playing and everyone's eyes turned to them. The smallest of the group outweighed Clint by no less than twenty-five pounds, but the archer had experience and agility on his side. He didn't want to have to call them out, but it looked like he might have to. At least until he heard a voice behind him.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size, buster?"

Clint glanced over his shoulder at the fed who'd joined him. The man was almost a head taller than Clint with dirty blond hair. He also seemed familiar. Lowering his voice, the archer whispered, "I can handle this."

The first redneck still heard him and laughed again. "They're four of us and only one o' you. Two if you're friend decides to open his yap again."

The fed cocked his head to side as if thinking. "That's two to one odds." He and Clint shared a look.

"We could wait for a couple more of their brain-dead buddies to show up to make it even more interesting," Clint offered, liking the way he and the other agent just fell into a rhythm. A give and take that usually only came with practice or a strong rapport like what he had with Natasha.

"Or we could just ignore them and play some eight ball."

Clint shrugged. "Winner buys the next round?"

The fed casually removed his hands from his pockets. "Deal."

When the two men turned to go, one of the rednecks spun Clint around by grabbing his shoulder and Clint acted instinctively. He reached across, peeled the hand from his shoulder and twisted, pulling the guy over and down onto his stomach to a wrist lock. The he sensed a punch coming before it hit, ducking and rolling to the side and knocking over a table, glasses and leftover hot wings falling on top of him. As he was helped to his feet by one of the table's occupants grabbing a fistful of his shirt front, he saw the other agent holding his own. He'd dropped into a boxer's stance and was pummeling one of the guys until he finally knocked him unconscious.

Clint's attention came back to his own plight as a guy who hadn't been at the table or a part of the redneck group joined in the fight. And before long there was an all-out bar fight in progress, though it wasn't only men fighting. Most of the women were getting in their share of licks too, and the rest were standing around the perimeter cheering on their favorites.

Two more guys who hadn't been a part of the original group picked the fed up and threw him across the room to land next to the Foosball table. Clint threw a punch and felt all the knuckles of his right hand pop, but the guy went down like a lead balloon. Standing over the guy shaking his hand to restore feeling, he didn't see the punch thrown by a bleached blond in a bright purple cowboy hat and matching boots. She got him on the jaw spinning him around. He tripped and rolled under a table. As luck would have it, his jacket was close by as was the fed. Clint got his attention, flashing him a quick series of hand signals. He nodded and Clint counted to three then made a crouching sprint for his jacket then the two of them raced out the side emergency door.

"I walked over. Got a ride?" Clint asked as they weaved their way between the parked cars.

"Yeah. This way."

The two men jumped into the white pick-up and roared out of the parking lot just fifteen seconds before the state police arrived on the scene, pulled into the bank and around to the back where they couldn't be seen. Three more police cars zipped past their hideout before they breathed easy.

Up close, the man seemed more familiar than ever. Clint stuck his hand out. "Dewey Gaynor."

"Steve Smallwood. That was some fight."

"Yeah. How long you reckon we should hide out before the cops stop looking for us?"

Steve shrugged and continued to stare at Clint, a smile that was barely short of a smirk slowly oozing over his face. "Dewey Gaynor? That's the _best_ your guys could come up with?"

To say Clint was astonished at the remark would be putting it mildly. "_Excuse_ me?"

Now Steve was snickering as he opened a hidden compartment in the driver's door. "FBI. Looks like we're both here for the same reason."

"And that would be…?"

"To get the goods on the Consortium." Steve held out a leather cover with a photo ID and a gold badge. That alone was a shock. But the biggest shock of all was "Steve's" real name.

Digging his phone from his back pocket, Clint scanned his RF transmitter and held the screen up for his companion to see the information displayed. _Barton, Clint F. Senior Field Agent, SHIELD._

"Good to see you again, Clint, though in college you went by the name Coulson."

Chuckling, Clint turned sideways in the seat holding a mental picture up of a young and cocky football player next to the mature man across from him. "Sonofa_b****!_ Trevor Alston."

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 9**

Once he'd gotten over the shock, Clint grinned at Alston. "If anyone had told me you'd become a cop, I'd've laughed in their face."

"Yeah. I can hardly believe it myself sometimes. Back at NY Central, football was the only road out I saw for myself. But this, being a part of something greater than my narrow little view of the world, _that_ was the missing piece."

"I'm glad it worked out for you." Clint fingered the sore spot on his cheek. The woman who'd hit him had been wearing a ring that left a scrape. She also had a decent right hook. He'd have a bruise come morning. "What office you working out of?"

"D.C. You?"

Clint turned toward the window with a shrug. "SHIELD has a mobile office, docked at Quantico."

"How long you been with SHIELD?"

"Since before we met. I was recruited and trained by a guy name Phil Coulson."

That set Alston back a bit. "Your cousin? Ah, he was your handler. You know, back in college, I knew there was something not quite kosher about you. At the time, I thought it was just that you were older than the rest of the students. But that wasn't it." Alston craned his neck to watch several state police vehicles cruise away from the bar at a more respectable speed. "I graduated with a bachelor's in criminal justice, became a beat cop then joined the FBI. Been with 'em ever since. Got married a few years ago."

"Really?"

The FBI agent laughed. "Got a couple of kids, too. Don't have photos with me of course. You should come for a visit."

"Looking forward to it." Now that Alston had shared, he obviously expected Clint to do the same, and if he didn't, the other man would probably ask. "No."

"No, what?"

Twisting around to look at Alston caused the seatbelt to pull against Clint's sore shoulder. "No. I'm not married, engaged, living with or seeing anyone, and no kids."

"I thought you and what's her name would've gotten married." Snapping his fingers, Alston looked to Clint for help with recall.

"Naomi."

He must've seen something in Clint's expression that told him what he wanted to know. "Yeah. How long you here for?"

"Leaving tomorrow night."

"Monday or Tuesday for me. Meet the locals, get them to trust me. I'll be in and out of town for the next couple of months so they get used to seeing me around. See if I can get info on the compound without rousing suspicion. We lost some of our best agents by putting a man inside, so we're taking this op slow." Clint debated with himself if he could tell Alston about his own experience and decided against it. Turned out not to be necessary. "I heard about a guy who made it out alive, but just barely. After that, nothing. Wonder whatever happened to him."

Clint had hoped not to have to talk about that abortive first incursion, but he found himself talking about it anyway. To appease Alston curiosity, if nothing else. "He recovered from his ordeal and is still with the department. Some memory loss, but doing okay." A small amount of light reached the dark corner where they'd parked, but it was enough for Clint to see when Alston worked it out.

The agent pointed a finger at him almost accusingly. "That was _you_?! And obviously why you left so abruptly. Man! If you had any idea how many off-duty man hours I spent trying to track you down, and now I find out you're an old college pal."

Now Clint chuckled. "We weren't exactly friends."

Alston rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, well that was my fault. I know it's a little late, but I really am sorry for all the stupid things I did back then."

"No big deal. The director wants to take it slow this time. When I got caught nosing around last time, I had to come up with a cover that didn't hold up to close scrutiny. It was my own fault. I underestimated the level of distrust and suspicion within the organization."

"How'd they make you as an agent?"

Again Clint shifted in his seat, hanging his left arm over the back of the seat. "Don't know."

"You don't _know?_"

"The memory loss covers the time I was their guest as well as some events leading up to it. I remember being on the mission, but not that I volunteered. I remember the night before I left, driving to the airstrip and getting on the plane, but not the landing, traveling to the compound or where it was located."

Starting the truck, Alston pulled out into the street, turning in the direction of the hotel. "And by guest you mean prisoner."

"I'd been gone for just over a month when I was found in a hospital in Santa Fe and brought back to the helicarrier. They had no idea how I got to New Mexico because the compound had been somewhere in Georgia. I was in a coma for two weeks. The docs said that some of the injuries were sustained when I fell or was pushed out of a helicopter. I spent months in physical therapy."

"Sorry to hear that. You staying at the Independence?"

Clint nodded. "You?"

"Yeah. Must be the only place in town. Could be worse, though I do miss room service."

Now that he'd been talking about his past experience with the Consortium, Clint was getting a headache again. The ones he got from trying to remember were different from any other because these started over his left eye, making him wonder if most of the brain damage he'd sustained had been to that area. Pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, he took deep breaths hoping to relieve the pain and dizziness without having to take medication. The only thing that helped was the Ambien because it knocked him out, but he couldn't chance being anything less than one hundred percent. If he were off his game, he could get himself, and Alston, killed. "It's best if we aren't seen together, especially after that brawl, so let me out here and I'll walk the rest of the way."

Alston glanced over at him with concern. "You sure? 'Cause you don't look so good."

"I'm fine. It's just…whenever I try to remember that time, I get headaches." As bad as his head hurt, he flashed a smile at Alston as the truck came to a stop. Opening the door, Clint tried to assure Alston that he would be okay. "I'll take something when I get to my room."

"Okay. See ya."

Clint slammed the door and the truck pulled away as he jogged to the opposite side of the street. Instead of heading immediately for the hotel, he leaned one hand on the side of the building and rubbed the back of his neck, the pain so bad he wasn't certain how he would get through this op without having a stroke.

When the pain eased enough that the dizziness let up, Clint continued on to the hotel, avoiding the elevator and taking the stairs to the third floor. He pulled off his jacket with a groan, tossing it on the dresser on his way into the bathroom. Stripping out of his clothes, he turned on the shower and stepped under the water letting it hit him on the back of the neck and his upper back. Leaning on the wall of the tiny enclosure, he groaned as bits and pieces of memories flashed through his mind. No, not flashes. Bright lights being shone in his eyes so that the people around him stayed in shadow. Shapes that moved, merging and separating.

And voices. Male. Female. Another male. The names Tiny and George blinked above two of the silhouettes, though the third stayed anonymous. Something about that third voice was almost but not quite familiar, as if he were hearing it through the walls.

More images came rushing toward him faster and faster until they were a blur. Colored streaks that moved past him as if he were quickly approaching the speed of light until one lone face came flying toward him. He thought it was going to stop, to let him see who it was, but it kept going passing through him as if he didn't exist making him feel cold inside.

A blast of cold water brought Clint out of his vision, trance, hallucination, whatever. He shut off the stream, grabbing the small hand towel and pressing it to his face then pushing it over his head and through his hair. The bigger, not by much, towel he wrapped around his waist as he stepped out onto the bath mat. Clint used another small towel to vigorously dry his hair noting that his headache was gone, though a small amount of the dizziness still remained. And as much as he wanted to just fall into a dreamless sleep tonight, he knew he couldn't take the Ambien again ever. Naomi had been right to call him on his use of the sleep aid. Though he wasn't addicted by any means, he had to deal with his issues without the use of drugs, so going forward, he'd only take Tylenol or ibuprofen for pain and nothing else unless prescribed by a doctor.

Isolda wouldn't miss the little bit of business he occasionally pushed in her direction as a part of his cover, but he had to make a clean break from any temptation.

Pulling on pajamas, he dropped to the floor and did a quick fifty pushups. Enough to tire him a little but not enough to get him all sweaty. The physical activity helped dispel the last of the strange images that had come to him in the shower and he actually felt like he'd sleep without having another nightmare. At least he hoped so because he didn't want to end up in this small town's version of a psych ward.

Clint's head hit the pillow and he lay on his back staring at the ceiling. His room faced the street and every now and then he would hear a car or truck drive past and found himself listening for the city noises or the thrum of the helicarrier's engines.

Not able to go to sleep, he thought he'd try something that had worked for him before. He reached back and pulled out a memory, a good one, and watched it unfold as if he were at a movie. And by the time he finished, he was sound asleep.

~~O~~

It was late Sunday afternoon when Hill came into Naomi's office. The agent had asked for an a few minutes of her time, and because she wasn't due for her annual evaluation, Naomi assumed she had an issue to discuss that wouldn't take long. And she did. Just not the one that Naomi thought it would be.

The senior agent had insisted that they move to the sitting area making it seem like they were just two friends having a chat. But now all Naomi could do was stare at Hill with her mouth open. "Say that again, please, Maria. I want to make sure I heard you correctly." While she waited for a response, Naomi took a sip of the tea she'd served.

"Dr. McNeil has assigned Dr. Hoffman to take over as Agent Barton's therapist beginning immediately." To soften the blow, Hill had come in her off-duty wear of khakis and a T-shirt.

"This was at Agent Barton's request."

Hill nodded and sipped her tea. "He made the request directly to Director Fury, and the director asked me to take care of it." Setting the cup aside, Hill crossed her knees and leaned forward. The two women had begun a tentative friendship since Naomi had come aboard, but it was still new enough that they hadn't found their footing just yet. "Agent Barton has a habit of just barreling over any obstacles that he can't find a way around. But don't take it personally. He does it to everyone sooner or later."

Her expression carefully neutral, the psychologist asked, "Did he say why?"

Now Hill smiled shrewdly. "Do you really not know?"

"Pardon?"

With an impish grin, Hill picked up her cup and took another sip of tea before responding. "That man is crazy about you. Stop pretending you don't feel the same way. Everyone on the ship knows. There's even a pool going as to when you finally…"

"Maria!" At this moment, Hill reminded Naomi how much she missed Serene and her family, and made a mental note to give her best friend a call before the end of the day. "_You_ started it, didn't you?"

The dark-haired woman grinned over her cup as the wisps of steam drifted past her dark eyes. "It's a hobby. So any inside info you can give me?"

"Yes. Clint and I don't _have_ that relationship anymore. We…"

Hill grinned in triumph. "So I was _right!_ You _were_ an item at one time. Kripke will flip! Looks like I'm the winner in _that_ pool."

"Um…" Naomi was at a loss for words at the revelation that the crew had been betting on when she and Clint would give into their desires. But that wasn't what had made her angry. It was the fact that Clint had gone over her head when she'd specifically told him not to. "Okay. But you might want to give the crew back their money for that other thing, because it's _not_ going to happen any time soon." _Especially not after this stunt._ She could tell Hill heard the anger behind the words though she'd tried to keep them light.

"I'll keep it going just the same." A beep from her computer alerted Naomi to an email. "Excuse me." She went to her desk and found an email from Clint. In it he said that he would be returning to Quantico the next evening and wanted to have dinner. A sigh escaped before she could stop it and Hill was right there. "Something wrong?"

"No. It's just that Clint-Agent Barton wants to have dinner when he returns. I'm just not sure…"

"What are you doing right now?"

The question came so fast on the heels of her news that at first Naomi didn't realize that Hill had changed the subject. "Reports, case notes, working on an article on PTSD, another on how the agents cope with stress…"

"It can wait. We're having a girl's day out. Manicures, pedicures, lunch, shopping. I'll change and be right back." At the door, she turned. "If anyone asks, we're going to a monster truck rally or a mixed martial arts tournament. And if you tell Barton about this, you _will_ die."

"Okay." And with that, Hill was gone.

A few minutes ago, Naomi was angry, but that gave way to frustration and intense annoyance due to the blatant circumvention of her authority by Clint, Hill and her father. She knew Clint wanted another therapist and he deliberately went against her wishes to make his request. But the truth was Clint didn't need her permission. All he needed was the desire to do so. And he obviously did or he wouldn't have gone over her head.

Now that her anger was mostly gone, and to be fair, unwarranted, Naomi wanted to talk to Clint, to give him the pendant and other personal items she'd kept all these years. She also knew he would ask why she'd kept them. And the answer was simple. They were important to him which made them important to her.

If this dinner with Clint was a date, shouldn't he have made the request in person? However, if this was just a friendly dinner, email was fine. She sent a response that was agreeable without being overly eager. He answered that he would be back on the ship in the next hour or so.

The anticipation made her breathless though she wasn't sure why. What were Clint's expectations regarding their relationship? What were hers? Or was she overthinking? They'd fallen so quickly the first time, maybe they should just enjoy being friends for a while.

Naomi was allowed to wallow for very long because Hill returned and the two of them took one of the military Hummers from the motor pool. Within minutes, they were sipping a very cheeky bottle of wine at a spa in town, and though nothing of note happened, Naomi couldn't help remembering when she'd been kidnapped by Gary Decker.

They were in adjoining mud baths when Naomi made a decision. "Maria, I have a favor to ask."

"Shoot."

"My workouts tend to be pretty boring. Running, dancing, things like that."

Hill smiled and it could be heard in her voice. "And you'd like to try something different. What did you have in mind?"

"Martial arts. Sparring. Something along those lines. I've taken some self-defense, but that was a while ago. I need more than what I have."

Setting her glass of wine aside, Hill closed her eyes. "0800 in the gym."

"I'll be there." With a sigh, Naomi closed her eyes again and finally began to relax as the mixed thoughts of Clint faded from her mind.

~~O~~

This little trip to Satisfaction was Alston's third in as many months. It had been decided that this time the op would go slow and he would ease his way into being trusted by the locals. Without giving anything away, he indicated that he was dissatisfied with his marriage and was thinking of moving to town if there were jobs available. To that end, he put a few feelers out to test the waters, maybe get the Consortium to make a job offer rather than seek them out. His plans were to turn them down a few times before agreeing.

On his way out of town, he made his scheduled check-in. "Hi honey…yea, on my way now…your sister is expecting me in about two hours…of course…I was just calling to tell you that I ran into your cousin, Dewey Gaynor…Here in Satisfaction…yeah, that was weird, small town like this…I'll see you soon…love you and the kids."

His check-in done, Alston thought about what Barton had told him. That he was the only agent to survive an encounter with the Consortium. The physical and emotional trauma must've been excruciating. Not to mention the rehabilitation. From what Clint hadn't said, Naomi hadn't been with him through that process and he wondered why. Why would she walk away from a man she obviously cared about just when he needed her the most? From the few times they'd actually spoken and the way she looked at Clint, he could tell that she loved him. And that was the most puzzling thing of all, right up there with what he was doing on this op now. Unless SHIELD knew something the FBI didn't, such as the members who'd been there twelve years ago had been replaced. But Alston couldn't ask that question until he was far enough away from Satisfaction that he could report in.

It was dark on this long stretch of highway that wound its way through the mountains, but he didn't think much about it until another driver got too close.

"Hey, back off, jerk!"

The other driver was either in a really big hurry or… Alston wasn't allowed to complete that thought because the other vehicle rammed the back of his truck.

"What the _hell!_"

It rammed him again then a third time almost causing him to lose control. While they backed off to make another run, he dug out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. However, the next ram knocked it from his hand. It fell onto the floorboard of the passenger side where he couldn't reach it. Now all he could do was concentrate on keeping his own vehicle on the road until he could get away.

At the turnaround, he made a sharp left turn and barrelled back toward town with the other vehicle, a truck with a winch on the front but couldn't catch the make and model. The hemi engine roared as he took another run at him. He saw it coming so he made another sharp turn hoping it would miss. The other truck hit a glancing blow on the back driver's side tailgate spinning him around. He went down a hillside, crashing through underbrush and over logs until he landed in a small stream.

Pulling down one of the shotguns mounted in the back window, Alston loaded it, shoved additional rounds into his pockets and waited. When the other truck came to a stop and he heard footsteps crunch on the gravel along the steam, he kicked the door open and made a diving leap, coming up on one knee with the shotgun already blasting away.

He took out the passenger side mirror and cracked the safety glass of the windshield. Seeing no further movement, he got to his feet aiming his weapon into the darkness with his hearing stretched to its limits. The trouble was sounds could be distorted when out in the open.

Alston heard the pffft of an air-powered weapon a millisecond before he felt the sting of a tranquillizer dart in the side of his neck. He reached up to pull it out, but his consciousness switched off and he fell to the ground narrowly missing hitting his head on a rock.

When they were certain their quarry was unable to offer any further resistance, two men came to stand over him, unpleasant grins on their faces.

~~O~~

After activating the chime at Naomi's office door, Clint waited to be admitted. He'd sent an email asking for an appointment, their last one before Hoffman took over, and she'd responded that she was free immediately. The door opened and he stepped inside, going to the sitting area without hesitation to wait for her to join him.

"You went over my head to change therapists, Clint. Why are you here now?"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "One last hurrah?"

"It's not necessary, but if you insist." She picked up her pen and pad, the annoyed expression not going completely away. "How did your mission go?"

Behind the casually asked question, Clint heard the distress Naomi must've felt. This was the exact same mission he'd gone on just before his life-and hers-had gone to hell. Everything he'd done since then had only been getting by, marking time until they could find each other again. And now that they had, he didn't want to mess it up. He wanted to take things slow. Let them really know each other before taking that next step. But could he keep it up? Keep things casual? He wasn't sure, but he was determined to try.

"About how I expected." Naomi didn't have to know right this minute he'd run into Alston, that the prick from college was now an undercover FBI agent and that they'd both been on the same mission at the same time. He made a mental note to tell her later. "It was just a recon. Gathering intel."

"But that sort of operation, by its very nature, requires you to be up close and personal with others."

He shrugged, wondering what she was getting at. "Yeah. So?"

Her pen scratched on the page as she scribbled a few notes. "You once said that you see better from a distance. What does that mean?"

"Tactical. From above, I can see all the players at once. Who's talking to whom, their body language, if they're doing something or are in a place they shouldn't be. At ground level, you can't see it, and you might miss something vital." Clint thought about Cap's order during the invasion. _Barton, I want you on that roof, eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays. _They didn't call him Hawkeye for nothing_. _Clint took Naomi's hand. "Come with me."

She tried to get away, but he held on. "Oh, no! The last time you said that Tony locked us in a room together."

He grinned. "This'll be different. Promise."

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 10**

Tugging, he finally convinced her to come with him. Not releasing her hand, they walked through the ship until they reached the deck. "What do you see?"

"Planes, the tower, warehouses, a water tower some cars and trucks."

Taking her hand again, he led her to the ladder that took them to the catwalk below the conning tower. He climbed up onto the tower and waited for her to join him.

The sky was going dark with the setting of the sun and just a few stars were out. The moon hadn't yet made its appearance and the lights of the city came on a few at a time. A small gasp came from Naomi as he sat down and she did the same. "Wow! I see why you like it up here."

Clint pointed into the distance. "From here, you can see the whole county."

"It's beautiful." She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped both arms around them, a small contented smile on her face.

~~O~~

The warm wind blew through Naomi's short hair pushing the bangs from her forehead. In just the few months she'd been on the helicarrier, they'd grown until they were a little too long, but she hadn't gotten around to having them trimmed. The shorter style was easier to manage, but she missed her long hair…and the way Clint used to run his fingers through it while inhaling the scent of her shampoo…the way he was doing now. He probably thought he was being subtle.

A few days ago, he'd indicated he wanted a deeper relationship with her than mere friendship, yet they'd been on the conning tower for more than thirty minutes and he hadn't even tried to hold her hand or put his arm around her. The only movement he made was to plant his feet far apart with his knees raised, his elbows resting on them and hands clasped together. If he moved any part of him, it was his head or even just his eyes.

Now that they were alone, or as alone as they could be on this ship, she wanted him to pick up where they'd left off at Stark Tower. Their moments of normalcy had been just what she needed when she hadn't known she needed them. Now she needed…wanted _him_, but he wasn't cooperating.

The breeze picked up bringing with it hints that fall was on its way making her shiver. Instead of putting his arm around her, he took off his jacket and settled it around her shoulders without even touching her then returned to watching the lights. It annoyed her and she didn't know why. Or rather she did but didn't want to admit that she wanted him to make a move because this time she'd say yes.

After just a few minutes more of the stand-off, Naomi couldn't take it anymore. She touched his arm rubbing lightly down to take his hand. He turned to her with a smile, gave her a squeeze and released. "Ready to go in?"

Doing her best not to betray her frustration, she smiled. "Yes."

On the walk back to her quarters, he kept his hands in his pockets and what talk there was had nothing to do with anything they'd talked about in the session. Mostly, he ran down the player stats of his favorite hockey team's chances for taking the Stanley Cup in the playoffs. Not being a hockey fan, she just nodded and smiled with the occasional "oh really?" so he would think she cared. She did, sort of, but not enough to have this much detail.

Her relief when they arrived at her room was profound. The situation felt like they'd been on some strange date and now she was wondering if he would kiss her good night. When they'd kissed at the community center, she felt the same attraction to him that had been a big part of the reason she'd first approached him years ago. "Thanks for tonight. I think I get it now."

"Get what?"

Leaning against the wall next to her door, Naomi shrugged one shoulder. "You. Or at least understand you a little more. We were only a real couple for a few weeks. Not a lot of time to really know everything about each other."

"We can do that now, if you like." Clint came close enough to touch her, but didn't. Instead, he leaned down and her pulse leapt. Finally, after all the hints she'd dropped, he was going to kiss her. The little flutter in her stomach changed to a rock when he veered off course and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. "'Night."

Then he turned and walked away without a backward glance leaving Naomi standing there wondering if she was going crazy. He _had_ wanted their relationship to move forward, hadn't he? But now he was acting as if none of that had happened. Going into her room, she got dressed for bed then sat down at her desk to write up her last session notes on Clint for Hoffman leaving out her ambivalent emotions.

~~O~~

In his room, Clint tossed his jacket on the bed then booted up his computer to go over his notes from the mission to Satisfaction, but he couldn't concentrate. He'd been just a little mean to Naomi by not doing what she so obviously wanted him to do. Then when she made the advance, he'd put her off. It was all part of his campaign for them to become friends before they became lovers again. And they would. It was only a matter of time, and now time was actually on their side.

Putting those thoughts aside, Clint pulled up the videos he'd recorded the three nights he'd been in Satisfaction to run them through the facial recognition program. While he waited, he changed into workout clothes. He and Natasha had a standing sparring session in twenty minutes though he hadn't heard a quinjet arrive in the last couple of hours. She seldom canceled and never forgot to call when she did. But if what he'd seen the last time he was at the tower was what he thought it was, she was most likely spending time with Rogers. The super-soldier would be good for her. They would be good for each other, and he wished them well. Now if only Natasha would let herself feel love for another that he knew she could. She'd always said that love was for children, but he knew differently. Love was for anyone who would allow themselves to find it. And he was living proof.

The computer beeped, but the results of the scan were inconclusive. There were several faces highlighted, but with percentages of less than fifty percent that those individuals were known to law enforcement except on minor traffic and misdemeanor drug or assault charges.

Taking down his duffle bag, he packed for his trip to the community center. He was adding his toothbrush when someone knocked on his door. Going to it, he was surprised to see Naomi. After the way they'd parted, he thought she'd avoid him for a while. "Come in."

"Sorry to intrude. I've brought some things that belong to you."

"Have a seat." Naomi sat in the chair and Clint took the bed. She passed him the paperback, _Flowers for Your Grave_ by Richard Castle. He read the synopsis then the author biography on the inside back cover. "What about it?"

The look on her face was cheerless. "You were reading it for your American Lit class, I think."

"Don't remember it. What else?"

From the pocket of her pajamas she took a pendant. "You wore this several times. I never did find out who gave it to you."

Holding the necklace, he rubbed his thumb over the design. Images flitted through his mind and again, his head began to throb. "I don't…" And then there it was. A memory. "Buck Chisholm gave it to me after my first solo show with Carson's." He rubbed his forehead and the ache subsided. He hadn't heard her go into the bathroom until she handed him a glass and held out two Tylenol. Taking the water, he shook his head at the pills.

"You get a headache every time you try to remember something you've lost?"

Nodding, he sipped the water then set it aside. "They're not as bad as they used to be." He waggled his hand. "Depends on the memory."

She set the photo album aside. "Then we'll leave this for another day."

"It's fine." Clint patted the bed beside him. "Let's look at it together."

"My mother took most of them. She has a habit of sneaking up on people and taking their picture. They never even know it until she pulls it out when it will cause the most embarrassment."

That made him grin. "Sounds like her." With Naomi holding it, Clint turned the pages.

The first was identical to the one he kept in his bedside table of the two of them sitting on the sofa together. He remembered when it had been taken after Thanksgiving dinner. The dishes had been washed, dried and put away, and they'd been having coffee and pie in the sitting area. He recognized picture number two as well, but not the people in the third one. A well-dressed man in his forties and a woman in a very tight red dress that left very little to the imagination.

But the next picture was the most startling of all. He was sitting on an ottoman talking to an older woman, listening raptly, and she was beaming. The fingers of his left hand touched the lined face. "Clementine."

"Hm-hm. She passed away eight months later, but never forgot how kind you were to her. She asked about you all the time." The sadness in Naomi's voice was almost heartbreaking. "We kept telling her you were out of town on business."

"I never knew my grandparents and she was sweet. All she wanted was someone to take the time to listen to her." The pages crackled as he turned to the next page. He had his arms around Naomi as she stood at the kitchen counter cutting up sweet potatoes, and the look on her face was unlike any he'd ever seen on a woman before…that he remembered. This smile was soft and dreamy, her eyes closed, face turned toward him as he nuzzled her neck.

She was sitting so close now their shoulders touched, and Clint inhaled the sweet scent of cherries mixed with the subtle fragrance only Naomi had at certain times. He was of two minds if he should do anything about it. He wanted to get up and move away from her so she wouldn't be embarrassed at the effect she was having on him, but that would just draw attention to it. Instead, he chose to turn the page.

This photo was of him alone standing on a patio in the snow. Something about it was familiar, but he couldn't place it. "This one. Where was it taken?"

"Mother's house on Thanksgiving. You'd stepped outside to get away from the noise and confusion. It could be a good thing you don't remember this one."

"Why?"

Naomi turned her head to smile at him. "Because right after that was taken the local cougar tried to get her claws into you."

Smiling back, he shrugged one shoulder. "What stopped her? Besides me not being interested?"

"Oh, so you _do_ remember Suzanne."

Shaking his head, he nudged her with his elbow. "I just remember how I felt about _you._"

Taking his hand, she gave it a squeeze. "The feeling was mutual, though we hadn't said the words yet."

"And how do you feel now?" Clint didn't know what made him ask, but it was out there, and he held his breath waiting for an answer. At first he didn't think she would, but then she gently separated their hands.

"To tell the truth, I'm not sure _how_ I feel. Or how I'm _supposed_ to feel. All these years I thought you'd just…left. That maybe somehow loving me scared you."

A chuckle escaped before he could stop it. "That's because it _did_."

"What makes you think_ I_ wasn't scared too?" She closed the album and tossed it on the bedside table, that same hand patting him on the thigh. "I think that's enough sharing for tonight."

Impulsively, he hugged her and was relieved when she hugged back. "I'm glad we had this talk."

~~O~~

"Me too." Naomi couldn't help the little shiver of awareness at the feel of his warm breath whispering over the sensitive skin of her neck. She turned her head to kiss his cheek at the same time he turned, her lips catching him on the corner of his mouth. "Oh. I…"

She leaned back just enough to be able to see that a shadow had covered his eyes turning them from the blue of the sky into storm clouds. Suddenly, he was kissing her with a hunger matched by her own. Their clothing vanished and they were tangled in each other, the last twelve years falling away as if they'd never happened.

In the morning, Naomi awoke with Clint spooned against her back. It had always been his favorite sleeping position when they slept in the same bed. And she realized that from the moment they'd first laid eyes on each other in the hospital that it had been inevitable.

Clint rolled onto his back and she took her chance to escape. She reached for her clothes, but wasn't allowed to enjoy her freedom for long. His arm snaked around her waist as he sat up, kissing her on the neck. "Going somewhere?"

"I, uh, I have appointments and patient files to update, a workout with Maria, meetings to get ready for."

"You forgot 'and the dog ate my homework'." He fell back taking her with him so that she was now draped over his chest, bare skin touching bare skin. "Please stay a little longer."

And because she still loved him as much today as she had before, she agreed. With her head on his shoulder and her right hand on his chest, she closed her eyes. His hand rested on her ribs, the fingers lightly rubbing back and forth while his free hand brushed the hair from her forehead and he planted a kiss there making her sigh. In a few minutes, they were both asleep again.

When next Naomi awoke, Clint was sitting in the chair sipping coffee. "How long have you been up?"

"Not long." He nodded to a cup on the desk. "Coffee?"

Nodding, she wrapped the sheet around her, scooted off the bed and gathered up her clothes. Without looking at him, she went into the bathroom coming out a few minutes later fully dressed. She opened the cup and took a sip before the implications hit her. "You went to the Mess Hall?"

He took another drink and swallowed. "Yeah."

"Crap!" Looking down, she realized that she'd come here in her pajamas. "Look how I'm dressed! It must be all over the ship by now! Or it will be when I leave."

Shifting in his seat, he grinned at the frustrated tone of her voice and she wanted to slap him. "Not a surprise either. Just the when."

"Maria said there was pool."

Again, he shrugged, unfazed by the fact that their colleagues had bet on when they would sleep together. "There's _always_ a pool."

She covered her eyes with one hand while sipping coffee with the other. "What if the director finds out?"

"You're not my doctor anymore, remember?"

"I know." Taking another long drink of the coffee to fortify her, she jumped right into the fray. "I suppose it's time for the morning after talk." Clint didn't say anything, just sipped his coffee. "I didn't come here last night with the intention of…"

"Taking me to bed? Do you hear me complaining?"

A snort popped out. He just had a way of getting right to the heart of the problem. And considering her heart _was_ the problem, he'd done a perfect job. "No. And neither am I. It's just…we were supposed to be taking it slow this time. To see if we could rebuild what we had, but with a firmer foundation."

"We did that last night…" his blue-gray eyes twinkled, his mouth turned up in a smirk, "…and again this morning."

She rolled her eyes. "If you're trying to embarrass me, it won't work."

Clint leaned back in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him. "We're both adults and what we do on our own time is none of Fury's business."

"Speaking of which, what exactly _is_ this?"

"This is you and me not making any decisions about our relationship the morning after a night of rampant passion."

Naomi sighed with relief. "Good." She finished her coffee, shoved her feet into the fuzzy slippers she'd worn the night before and picked up the photo album. "Want me to leave this?"

"Please. I'll get it back to you in a few days." Clint stood when she did and a moment of awkwardness came in to join them as he gave her a quick kiss on the way out. "Still want to do dinner tomorrow night?"

Naomi didn't have to think about it. As long as neither of them had expectations about more than dinner, they'd be fine. "Of course. What time?"

"On deck, 1900."

~~O~~

A member of the off duty bridge crew ran to catch up with Hill as she headed for her quarters. "Agent Hill, ma'am."

"What is it, DeFranco?"

The young and very eager agent-in-training stood in front of Hill with both hands clasped behind his back. "Agent Davenport sent me to give you a message."

"Go ahead."

"He said…" DeFranco made a few false starts before blurting out, "…2127 tonight. He expects payment by 0700."

Without blinking, she kept her eyes locked on his knowing how it made some of the junior agents nervous, and right on cue, he turned and hurried away. Once inside her quarters, Hill swore as she changed out of her uniform and into pajamas. After brushing her teeth, she went to her computer and sent an email to one of her closest friends. No greeting. No salutation. Just the words, _You couldn't control yourself for one more day?!_

Once that was off her chest, she was ready to sleep.

~~O~~

The pounding Alston's head increased exponentially when he opened his eyes and not just from whatever he'd been tranqed with. Reaching a hand up, his questing fingers found an egg-sized bump on his forehead. And because he was lying on the floor, he surmised that he'd been just tossed in the cell by a couple of goons. He crawled over to the bed and used it to help him stand and move around the room to work the kinks out of his muscles.

A quick check told him he'd been relieved of anything that might help him escape. The fog in his brain lifted the more he moved around, and no nausea meant he probably didn't have a concussion. Counting himself lucky, he used the toilet, washed his hands as best he could without soap then splashed cold water on his face to scatter the remaining cobwebs, using the tail of his flannel shirt to dry off.

Going to the door, Alston peeked out the six-by-four window, but could see only a few feet of corridor and the opposite wall. Instead of calling out, he lay down on the bed, hands laced behind his head and waited for someone to notice he was awake. Wouldn't be too long considering they were watching him from the camera hidden in the ceiling. He couldn't see it, but it had to be there. This facility was too well protected for them to have neglected to put surveillance in the cells.

He'd been about to doze off when the door opened and a muscular man in his thirties came in while another stayed at the door. Both heavily armed. And because he wasn't stupid, he waited until he set a tray on the table before sitting up. Not the most appetizing food, but he didn't complain, though he did make a mental note to plan a barbeque when he returned home to Sarah and the kids. He had also a sneaking suspicion he'd need an extended vacation when this op was over.

~~O~~

Clint set his packed duffle bag and bow case on the bed then put on his jacket. His ride to New York would be leaving in a few minutes and he didn't want to be late. After a moment's thought, he opened the drawer and took out the photo of he and Naomi from twelve years ago. Opening his bow case, he set the photo within the protective foam so it wouldn't get bent. Just as he was about to shut the door and head out, his eyes fell on the envelope Bagley had given him from his brother. He'd shoved it in there when he got back to the helicarrier and hadn't thought about it since because he didn't want to hear what his brother had to say. Nothing Barney could say would make it better. They'd been each other's only family yet they hadn't spoken in twenty years. He debated for all of five seconds before dropping the envelope in the bow case and snapping it shut with an angry flick of his wrists. The range was calling him to let loose with a few arrows to let off steam, but he had someplace he needed to be.

At the private airport, he strapped his bow case to the back of the bike, hopped on and tore off down the street at well over the speed limit. He passed several police cars lying in wait for lawbreakers, but they never stopped him except for the first time. Once the cop realized who he was, the man had merely handed him back his ID, nodded once and returned to his patrol.

That night, after the kids and the work crew had left for the day, Clint thought about setting up a makeshift target and getting in a little practice. A few minutes later, he'd used debris from the destroyed playground to create several targets against the side of the building. It was dark out, but the street and security lights gave him enough to see by.

For over an hour, Clint shot arrow after arrow into the targets. Sometimes standing still, sometimes performing one of his routines from the circus but without the applause and adoration of the crowds. He found he preferred the solitude. Sort of. Naomi's presence would've made him feel less on edge and he didn't have far to go to find the source: the letter from his brother. When he'd taken the bow and arrows from the case, he'd slipped it into his pocket.

Now that he'd worn himself out, he sat down under a light with his back against the wall holding the envelope in both hands. It had his name on the front in unfamiliar handwriting that he assumed was Barney's. In his mind, he examined his reason for reading it now when he hadn't before and could only come up with one answer: Naomi. It was all her doing. Having her here relaxed his mind in a way that he'd needed for a long time, even before Loki.

The restlessness that had previously led him to reckless behavior with regards to the opposite sex had started to build even before Loki had come to Earth. But it wasn't making love with Naomi that had curbed the desire to begin trolling. It was her presence in his life again, and with that presence he now had the strength to face his brother's final words. He opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. A small photograph of a man and woman leaning against the side of an old Chevy fluttered to the ground. He picked it up and held it while he read the letter.

_Clint,_

_If you're reading this, then I'm dead. Sorry to just throw that out there, but that's the way it is._

_First of all, I owe you one colossal apology for leaving without saying good-bye when I joined the Army. At the time, I thought it was the best way to handle our first separation since Mom and Dad died. I made Beppo and Snitch promise to watch over you after I'd gone, and from what I hear, they did a decent job because you're doing pretty good for yourself. I, on the other hand, took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in a place I should never have been. But all of that doesn't matter now that I'm gone. _

_If what I've done has hurt you in any way, I'm sorry. Whatever you do, do _not_ follow in my footsteps. Because of the way I've conducted my life, I expect to spend eternity in hell, which is no more than I deserve, and the last thing I want is for you to end up there too._

_There's so much more that I want to say, but there've been too many years of silence for us to fill them now. I just hope that you're happy with your life._

_One last thing. After we were taken to the orphanage, I told you there were no pictures of Mom and Dad, but I lied. I managed to keep one, but I missed them so much I didn't want to share. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, do so. If not, I understand._

_Have a long and happy life, little brother._

_Barney_

Holding up the picture, Clint attempted to fit the images into his memory, but they didn't quite go with what he knew, or thought he knew. Here, his parents looked happy and in love, like a newly married couple. William Barton looked sober, his arm around the slender woman leaning against his side as she smiled into the camera.

With a sigh, Clint took out his wallet, and after one last look, stuck the photo the slot behind his credit card. Getting to his feet, he went back inside, taking out his SHIELD issued phone and hitting speed dial. A moment later, it was answered.

"_Hello?_"

"It's Clint." A moment of startled silence came from the other end of the line.

"_Is something wrong? You sound…odd._"

He agreed with the opinion, and only one thing could change it. "I need to see you. Can you come to the community center?"

The helijet landed in the parking lot of the community center just before midnight. Naomi jumped out and it was gone again. Clint went outside to meet her, the two of them watching until the craft had taken off again before Naomi turned to face him with concern in her brown eyes. Then, she looked past him to the makeshift targets still imbedded with arrows. "Clint, what's wrong?"

He didn't say a word, just started pulling the arrows out and she came to help. Inside, they placed the arrows on the desk and when she touched his hand, he swept her into his arms and just held her close.

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 11**

**Two Days Later**

"_Agent Barton to the bridge._"

"On my way." Clint set off at a jog, and as he entered, Hill gestured him to her station. "What's up?"

Hill tapped the screen bringing up the message. "We received this just a few moments ago. It's a BOLO to all law enforcement agencies." The alert stated that Special Agent Trevor Alston had gone missing after his last check-in two days ago. In that message, he mentioned someone by the name of Dewey Gaynor. His next check-in was to be four hours later, but never came. And because he mentioned your alias, we thought you'd want to be involved in the search."

"I do. He's an old college buddy. The FBI is running a parallel op on the Consortium. We ran into each other in Satisfaction." Something in his tone must have given him away, or Hill just knew him better than he thought because her eyes narrowed.

"What _aren't_ you telling me?"

He'd left the part about the bar fight out of his report. How could he tell her about it now? It had to be done though because she was a terrier. "We got into a bar fight with a bunch of rednecks." At her knowing glare, he added, "_They_ started it."

Hill's fingers made quotes in the air. "_They_ always do. So you were seen together."

"For a few minutes, and that was just to get out before the cops came. We did a little catching up then parted company and didn't speak again."

Clint shrugged sheepishly as Hill leaned forward to whisper, "You always leave out the best parts."

With a deadpan expression, Clint said, "Then what would I have to share on poker night?"

"You haven't been played in months."

"I was ordered not to by _you._"

Hill huffed at him, but the glint her eye said she wasn't really upset. "That's because you always win. Wanted to give someone else a chance for a while, but we kinda miss you're a** so how about next Saturday? My quarters."

"Can't. Already have plans. Yes, with Naomi." Clint waved a hand in the air, one side of his mouth turned upward. "And sorry you lost the pool."

The senior agent shrugged as he followed her to one of the vacant stations. "Easy come, easy go. This is all we have on Alston and his op. He'd been to Satisfaction every few weeks working up his cover."

"So he was made. Send me everything you've got on Alston and his op. I'll take care of it."

"What if they've made you too? This is the same group who…"

Clint cut Hill of with a sharp gesture. "I _know_ who they are. Tell the Director…"

"Tell the director what, Agent Barton?" The director was standing in the doorway of his private office, that one eye glaring as always.

For the last few days, Clint hadn't had any reason to speak to Fury and that worked out fine for the both of them. "The FBI's lost an agent working the same op as SHIELD on the Consortium. He's a friend of mine and I'm going after him."

Without changing his expression, Fury said, "You'll be going solo, I presume."

"Yes. Leaving as soon as I've read Alston's reports." With a nod, Clint left the bridge, Fury watching him in that way he had that made the junior and many senior agents squirm.

On the way to his room, he thought about dinner with Naomi the other night. They'd gone to a small out of the way Italian place owned by a husband and wife who'd emigrated from Italy in the early eighties. They'd laughed with the older couple, Clint taking the opportunity to use his Italian with a native to keep his skills sharp. It had been a fun evening with lively conversation as they talked over a few old times plus some of the new ones. They hadn't held hands though they did kiss good night. Just a sweet kiss with no expectations or demands. He'd gone back to his room and she to hers.

With so much to take in before heading back to Montana, he didn't have much time to spare. He hoped she wouldn't feel insulted by a short email to let her know he would be gone for a few days and she'd make her next trip to the community center without him. Trying not to think about the last time, he _hoped_ a few days was all it would be.

In his room, Clint booted up his computer then went into the bathroom to gather the personal items he needed for the trip. He examined his face in the mirror, running his fingers though the beard he hadn't bothered to shave. It wasn't a good look for him, but it did change him enough that anyone who hadn't seen him in a while might not recognize him. Anyone still with the Consortium after all this time most likely wouldn't either.

Pulling his computer to him, he began reading Alston's reports, committing them to memory. Hours later, he finished packing and boarded a quinjet for a ride to his previous rendezvous point where he would pick up the same vehicle he'd used last time.

Within six hours, he rolled into Satisfaction and checked in at the Independence Hotel. The desk clerk remembered him and asked if he wanted the same room. Since it didn't matter, he took a different room then hummed off key as he swept for bugs. It was clean…for now. He was hungry after the drive so he'd check again when he returned from the diner.

Taking a table where he could watch the door, he ordered the meatloaf special with decaf and a slice of cherry pie. And though he seemed to be indifferent to his surroundings, he kept a close watch on who came and went. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner and no one seemed to have any special interest in him aside from that usually shown to a stranger in town.

~~O~~

It was lunch time at the community center. Those with kids returned home or to the shelter leaving Naomi, Manuel and "the monkeys" on-site. Naomi was tempted to lock herself in the equipment room and take a nap instead of eating, but Clint was adamant that she needed to refuel. She finished her roast beef and cheddar on rye then ate the potato salad washing it all down with a bottle of electrolyte enriched drink. It tasted horrid, but it would help replace what she'd lost during her exertions.

She still had some time before work would resume so she excused herself and went to take a nap knowing the guys would look out for her safety. Whenever she came to the site without Clint, Manuel and his team would sleep in the auditorium for her protection. No one ever messed with her while they were around.

A sound jerked her awake though she wasn't certain if she'd heard it or it was her imagination. Just about to doze off again, she jumped when the door was kicked in and three masked men came in. Two of them held her down, she felt a prick on the side of her neck and the world went black.

~~O~~

"You're sure it was him?" Dietrich sat in his chair, fingers laced together in front of him, forehead resting on the overlapping thumbs as he awaited a response.

"I've been over the photos and videos a thousand times. He's a lot older and has a beard, but it's him."

While he digested that information, Dietrich contemplated his assistant. The younger man was different than Dietrich's last second-in-command. William had been a sniveling obsequious sycophant who had constantly agreed with everything his leader said no matter how outrageous. And one could only take so much of that before one snapped, which is what had happened just a few weeks ago. When Dietrich couldn't take it anymore, he'd pulled his weapon and shot the man.

Two of the guards outside the office had coming running in, weapons drawn. But the third strolled in behind them, took one look at the body and just shook his head while the first two stared with horrified fascination. Dietrich knew they were picturing themselves in the same predicament. But it had been the third that he'd spoken to. "What's your name?"

"Jacob." Dietrich liked that the other man hadn't added "sir" on the end.

"Well, Jacob, it seems that a position in upper management has just opened up. It's yours."

To give the young man credit, he did make a good show of thinking it over while giving nothing away in expression. No matter the situation, Jacob looked and sounded bored. "Okay." Immediately taking to his new position, Jacob gestured for the others to take away the body of his predecessor.

Coming around the desk, Dietrich stood in front of the wall mounted monitor displaying numerous photos of a man at various ages, most recently standing up to an alien invasion in New York City. "Tell me why a master assassin, spy and the lone survivor of an encounter with this organization would come back."

"With the change in management, he mostly likely believes there's no one still here who remembers him. Want him brought in?"

Dietrich tapped a finger against his chin thinking it over. "Not just yet, but I do think he needs a distraction. Send Bailey. Tell her to go by the name Frankie. Their meeting should seem accidental then have her seduce him to find out what he knows."

"Of course." Jacob didn't take his leave or even wait to be dismissed. He just left and as long as he showed respect in front of the staff, Dietrich didn't care.

Alone in his office now, Dietrich opened the wall safe and accessed the hidden compartment in the back, taking out a pre-filled auto injector. Superficially, it resembled an Epi-Pen, but it didn't contain epinephrine. What it contained wasn't available on the market, retail or black. The medication he was forced to take once a week kept him physically and mentally fit.

Eleven years ago almost to the day, he'd been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer that resisted all of the conventional and most of the unconventional courses of treatment. When he'd found out that the government was doing extensive research into his condition and were looking for test subjects, he'd volunteered. It had been a blessing and a curse.

Without the drug, very similar to the one that had made Nick Fury what he was today, he'd have died within six months. And with it, he could go on for years. A few years later, the knowledge that his lifespan could be cut short within a week of halting the drugs had made him reassess his life and priorities. It made him take risks he'd never dared before, and when his former partner had called him on it, he'd resigned and had taken his talents in another direction. One that paid better.

And now, here he was. The Man. The Big Kahuna. The Top Dog. The Head Honcho. His staff could call it whatever they wanted, as long as when he said "jump" they asked "how high?"

~~O~~

In a corner of the bar, Clint sipped his beer while he played a game of pool with another patron. Luckily no one recognized him from the bar fight. He would've sent money anonymously to help pay for the damages, but the other guys had started it so he didn't feel obligated. At least they weren't around tonight to pick up where they left off.

The pool game was friendly for the most part. They guy who had challenged him had obviously thought he was the best the town had to offer. He swaggered and strutted around leering at the women and joking with the guys. Though he could've taught the fellow a lesson, Clint held back to increase his opponent's confidence then sank the last three balls one right after the other with the eight ball dropping into the left corner pocket just behind the two.

Clint turned down a rematch, paid his tab and shoved his arms into his jacket. Not looking where he was going as he adjusted the collar, he ran into a young woman causing her to drop her drink. He apologized and offered to buy her another, but she turned him down. Ignoring her protests, he walked with her to the bar and put her in a seat. "Bartender, another one for the lady please."

"Diet Coke with a cherry comin' right up." The man behind the bar was soon back with a tall glass, a paper umbrella stuck in it along with a plastic sword holding two cherries.

Standing beside her, Clint got an odd feeling. It was as if she were purposely avoiding looking at him as a show of indifference. She'd smiled, but in a way that set his teeth on edge. In fact, everything about her had all of his senses on alert, and not in a good way. The young woman was pretty enough though not what he would call beautiful, average height, light brown hair, green eyes, slim almost to the point of being skinny.

Women didn't fall all over him when he was out and about, but this level of disinterest was deliberate. She wanted him to pursue her, and that made him want to know why. "Sorry I'm such a klutz."

"It's okay. At least it spilled on the floor and not my clothes." She was wearing blue jeans that fit just right. Not too tight and not too loose. Her shirt was a color of green that brought out the blond streaks in her hair that was pulled back on the sides and secured with clips making her appear younger than his original estimate of early thirties.

Belatedly, he stuck out his hand. "I'm Dewey, by the way. Been passin' through town on my way to and from Blackfoot for business."

"Nice to meet you, Dewey." Now her smiled seemed genuine and that put him even more on edge. "My name's Frankie."

While Frankie sipped her drink, Clint lifted her keys, excused himself then slipped out to search her car, the only Prius in the parking lot. There he found several handguns. He checked the serial numbers and wasn't surprised to find that she didn't have permits being as they were part of a gun shipment that had been hijacked over ten years previously in Georgia.

They moved to a table and ordered a pitcher of beer. Frankie was giggling as he did his best to entertain her with a story he made up on the spot. "…so after losing tha bet, I'm standin' there with my college pals wearin' this weird sequined evening gown, four-inch heels and wearin' this crazy wig when a pair of cops screech to a stop in front of us. So I thrust my hip out to the side, waved my arms in the air, and in my best James Earl Jones, sing 'I enjoy bein' a girl!'" And with that, the tenuous hold Frankie had on her laughter failed and she literally almost fell out of her chair. Clint reached out to catch her, and getting himself under control, passed her a napkin to wipe her eyes. "To this day, the guys won't let me live it down."

"Oh Dewey, you're a _riot_." Frankie checked the time, finished off her beer and pushed away from the table. "Sorry to cut this short, but it's time for me get home."

Clint helped her into her jacket then hooked her purse over her right shoulder. "Give you a ride?"

"Got my car. Thanks though."

Taking her hand, he smiled, letting his voice drop down into a sexy growl. "I meant to my hotel."

Her slight intake of breath told him she was surprised at the offer, but her body language gave her away. All while they were talking, Clint had been using interrogation tricks to gauge her normal way of speaking. She'd told the truth that Satisfaction was her home town, that her only living relative was a great aunt living in a retirement center in Billings, and that she was thirty-two. However, she'd been lying about her name, vocation and where she lived.

Her slow, slightly shy smile was enough of an answer. He laced their fingers together and drew her after him out to the parking lot. The ride to his hotel was quiet until they got into the elevator, then she was all over him. On his floor, he opened the door and they nearly fell inside, their lips locked in battle. He pushed her jacket off and onto the floor taking her purse with it. All of which were deliberate moves on his part. In the elevator, his hands had roamed over her body touching as much of her as possible. That and the weight of her purse told him she was unarmed.

Clint's jacket fell to the floor and very shortly his shirt joined it to be followed by Frankie's shirt and jeans confirming that there were no hidden knives or other weapons. Arms around her, he urged her onto the bed with him kneeling over her. Frankie's nimble fingers unbuckled his belt, but before she could continue, he took hold of her hand. "I'll be right back."

"Where you goin'?" Her obvious arousal made her breathless.

He gave her one last kiss before moving to the foot of the bed. With an awkward smile, he nodded at the bathroom door. "I'm just gonna…" She nodded understanding then lay back with her head on the pillow.

"Hurry back."

In the bathroom, he opened the cabinet under the sink, his left hand feeling for the Glock he'd hidden there earlier and shoving into the back of his pants. From the false bottom of his bow case he took out a ring and a pair of handcuffs. The ring went onto his right hand and the cuffs into his left back pocket.

Returning to the bedroom, Clint took just a moment to appreciate how Frankie looked in her matching bikini panties and bra. He was a _guy_, after all, and she was somewhat attractive. But other than her obvious charms, which were few as far as he was concerned, she had only one thing he wanted. With a smile that told her he would be making all her dreams come true, he crawled onto the bed, trapping her hands above her head and kissing her. He curled her fingers around the edge of the headboard as he reached into his pocket.

She jerked her mouth from his when he snapped the cuffs around her right wrist and the bedpost. He jumped back off the bed when she tried to kick him. "I am _not_ into any kinky stuff, Dewey. Turn me loose!"

"Sorry, sweetheart. No can do." The Glock came out as his entire attitude changed. The smile was replaced by determination.

Her struggles stopped and in a sing-song voice, she asked, "What's goin' on, baby?"

Clint ignored her for the moment as he used his phone to take her photo. Within seconds, he knew everything about her. Dragging the desk chair over, he straddled it, his arms resting on the back. "I'll ask the questions. Let's start with your real name."

"I told you. My name is…"

Keeping the Glock trained on her with his left hand, Clint used his right to scroll the information displayed on the screen. "Bailey Sharon Layfield, thirty-two, divorced, no siblings. Oh, look at this. You were a _very_ bad girl in high school. Shoplifting, vandalism, driving without a license, criminal trespass, criminal mischief, disorderly conduct, underage drinking. Looks like you cleaned yourself up in time to graduate from Rocky Mountain University with a degree in business and marketing. Unfortunately, it didn't keep your parent's business from going under after they died in a house fire. You worked as a cashier at a Wal-Mart in Kalispell until 2009 when you suddenly stopped reporting earnings of any sort to the IRS, yet you drive a brand new Prius and have over sixty thousand dollars in a high yield offshore account. How'm I doin' so far, _baby?_"

Her green eyes shot daggers at him. "You a cop or somethin'?"

"Or something, but you knew that or you wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of arranging a meet."

"_You_ ran into _me_, not the other way around."

Clint went to the minibar and took out a bottle of root beer, twisted off the top and took a swig. "Want one? No? We're gonna have a little chat and you're gonna tell me everything I wanna know."

Her laugh was nothing like the giggles they'd shared in the bar. This one was harsh and bitter. "And…?"

"And then you'll go to prison." Going to his duffle bag, Clint took out his cover ID, holding it up so she could see it. "Special Agent Clint Barton, FBI. Bailey Layfield, you are under arrest for treason, illegal possession of firearms, possession of stolen property, money laundering, engaging in domestic terrorist activities, tax evasion. I could go on, but you get the idea. You'll be going away for a _very_ long time. Now you can take the fall alone or take the rest down with you. Your choice."

Bailey lifted her chin stubbornly, her eyes never leaving his as she digested what everything he'd said. The gold ring flashed when the light hit it. "And what's your _wife_ gonna say when I tell her what you and I were doin' here tonight?"

"No wife, fiancée, girlfriend or friend with benefits so talk away. And to anticipate your next attempt at blackmail, my superiors believe that the end justifies the means. Being a part of the Consortium, you should be familiar with that concept." He waited while she thought it over.

"I'm not telling you _anything_."

Clint got up and sat on the side of the bed, leaning over her, his right hand twirling a lock of her hair. She batted his hand away. "I could add propositioning a member of law enforcement to the charges. Granted, it's not as big a penalty in comparison to the charges of domestic terrorism." He moved back to the chair

"You can't prove that!"

He drank down the last of the root beer and shrugged one shoulder. "Don't have to. I already know you work for the Consortium. That's enough to create the _suspicion_ of domestic terrorism. I'm sure Homeland Security will be happy to take over."

Her eyes dropped to her lap, her free hand pulling the covers up to her chest. She nodded.

"Access codes, number of guards and their schedules, staffing and the layout of the base, specifically where the cells and interrogation rooms are located, the names of all prisoners. Oh, and the name of the person in charge."

Setting his phone to record, he just let her talk until he was satisfied with her answers then shut it off and shoved it into his back pocket. He went into the bathroom for his bow case, setting it on the dresser next to his Glock before going back to the bed. "Sorry to have to do this, but I can't risk you sending up a flare."

Bailey glared daggers at him, her chin coming up in one last show of rebelliousness. "Hit me and I'll sue you for assault."

"I'd _never_ hit a lady. But then you're not a lady, are you?" Before she could respond, Clint flicked a small button on the side of the ring and a short needle popped out. He touched it to the side of her neck and within seconds she was asleep. Gathering up his bow case and weapon, he took the "do not disturb" sign from the inside doorknob and hung it on the outside then quietly closed the door before going out to his truck and taking the main road out of town.

~~O~~

"_Director Fury to the bridge!_"

Fury rolled out of bed at Kripke's call, shoved his feet into his boots and slipped the comm over his ear. "On my way." As he hit the door, he put on the eye patch to cover the scar where his eye used to be. He broke into a jog slowing down when he reached the bridge. "Go."

"We received a call on a secure line, but it wasn't one of our agents."

"Who is it?"

The agent consulted the monitor in front of him. "Says his name's Manuel Salsado and he's a friend of Agent Barton's though he referred to him as Hawkeye." Kripke stared over Fury's shoulder awaiting his next order.

"What did he have to say?"

"Three armed and masked men have taken Dr. Marks. They left a note stating they were from the Consortium and if we wanted to see her alive, we'd send Agent Barton to their location immediately. Transmitting the particulars now and I've already sent a team to the community center."

Fury stood at his station taking in the information moving across the screens faster than most would be able to see with two good eyes. His right hand shot out to halt the flow on the first screen. "Agent Kripke, get me a co-pilot and Tony Stark on the line." He paused a moment. "Inform Agent Barton of the situation."

"Done, sir." Within a few moments, Kripke pointed to let Fury know he was on with Stark.

"_What the hell do you want, Nick?_"

The director wasn't upset by the billionaire's tone because it was expected. "We're putting together a strike team…"

Stark snorted. "Why_ would you need a strike team?_"

"The Consortium has taken my daughter hostage and we're going after her."

For once, Stark was speechless, but it was a momentary aberration. "_Where?_"

Fury nodded to Kripke. "We're sending you everything we have on the Consortium. Their current location is Satisfaction, Montana."

In the background Fury heard the startup sequence for the Mark VIII Iron Man suit. "_I'll be ready._"

"We'll pick you up in thirty."

"_We?_"

Turning from the screen, Fury strode quickly from the bridge while Kripke made the arrangements for transportation. "The team will be led by me and Agent Hill will be joining us."

Out on deck, Fury strode to the first quinjet and dropped into the pilot's seat. Before he completed the preflight checklist, the co-pilot's seat was taken by Agent Hill. He didn't say a word as he rushed through the start-up sequence while she buckled in. "Flight, Delta five three ready for takeoff."

"_Roger, Delta five three. You are go for takeoff._"

Fury had only been in the air a few minutes when Kripke contacted him. "Say that again."

"_I've attempted contact with Agent Barton both by phone and pinging his comm unit. There's no response._"

"Acknowledged. Keep trying."

~~O~~

Stark headed for the helipad. "Stark to Banner. Suit up and meet me on the roof. We got a couple of live ones." _Hopefully._ He didn't wait for a response, tapping the control unit on his left wrist. Inside the tower, the Mark VIII Iron Man suit powered up, shot out through its launch tube and hovered over the helipad. The quinjet piloted by Fury arrived within moments, Stark, Banner and the Mark VIII boarded and they were off. "Romanoff is on location with her work detail. We'll have to swing by and pick her up. Couldn't get ahold of Cap."

"Will do."

The quinjet lifted off again and Hill spoke over her shoulder. "Hold onto your butts."

Stark and Banner strapped themselves in just as Fury brought the quinjet up to maximum speed. Within minutes, they could see Natasha standing on the roof of the tallest building in the area. Once she was on board, Fury turned in the direction of Montana and nudged the thrusters up to maximum.

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 12**

Outside the Consortium compound, Clint watched the main entrance through binoculars. He'd been all around the outside, watching and waiting, and so far everything Bailey had told him had been the truth. The shift change had occurred at 2230 just as she'd said. When the morning shift change came, he planned on being long gone with Alston and any other prisoners they might have.

He wished he had his memories to call on for experience. But all he had was the memory of the aftermath of the torture he'd endured. Not a great foundation upon which to build a plan. He'd have to rely on his training as a spy and assassin to get the job done. One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. _That'll work._

His grin slowly faded as the night he spent with Naomi flashed in his mind. The light in her eyes as they made love, the feel of her skin against his, the sound of her breathing as she slept. Did she care that an assassin slept next to her? It was something they would have to talk about if their new relationship was to survive in the long term. And he did want them to be together for eternity. He realized that now, rolling his eyes at the fact that he'd made such a momentous decision under such appalling circumstances.

Assassin. To the general population, the word evoked a feeling of evil, malevolence, immorality.

Clint believed that the greater good would be served if certain people were not in the world. What would Naomi say if she were here? Intellectually, she had to know he was an assassin, a murderer. Someone who killed on command like a dog trained to attack. And though his motives were not the same as the Consortium's who killed to advance their twisted way of how the world should be, how was what he was doing different? Some would even call him a sociopath, but that would just be wrong. He did have conscience He felt for the families of the people he had to kill and like Natasha, his ledger was in the red.

Natasha had been doing this for years longer and had once spoken of her personal ledger being filled with so much red that she had no idea how to erase it. Clint wondered how much red would be on his ledger in ten, fifteen, twenty years. Was there enough black in the world-_worlds_-to wipe out that much red?

Like Coulson, he had conviction. What they were doing _had_ to be right because the alternative wasn't worth thinking about.

Putting those thoughts aside, Clint fingered the device in one of his numerous pockets. Before he'd left Bailey sleeping in his hotel room, he'd taken a retinal scan and a sample of her DNA. He'd also changed into the special suit that R&D had created for this sort of op. It kept him cool in summer, warm in winter, but those weren't its only functions. The material it was made of had also been designed to fool the infrared, proximity and motion sensors. If anything showed at all, he would read as a deer or other animal that lived in the woods.

Now all he had to do was wait, and sure enough, the guards on the main entrance started slacking off on their perimeter checks. Their check-ins were done on schedule, but instead of patrolling the area, they played cards. Eventually, one of them put his feet up on the desk and dozed off. The other guard got up and went around the side of the building to relieve himself, and Clint took the opportunity to slip inside using Bailey's access.

Going straight to the door on the left, he entered the video room, quickly taking out the guards and stuffing them into a small closet after first stripping the smaller one out of his uniform. The drug he'd used would keep them out for at least four hours. Plenty of time to get the job done.

After put on the guard's uniform and seating himself at the computer, Clint slipped a thumb drive into the USB port, hacked through their security then programed the cameras to go into a video loop that would show nothing but empty corridors.

Taking out another device, he attached it to one of the guards' comms. It would respond to any calls made to the guards. It was limited in its responses, but it only had to work for an hour or less because Clint planned on being long gone before daylight with Alston.

With a few taps on the keyboard, Clint found the camera in Alston's cell. The FBI agent was asleep and looked in somewhat good health. A quick scan showed that only one other cell was inhabited, but the occupant was facing the wall with the covers over his head. Nothing in the computer told him the name of either prisoner, but that didn't matter. The three of them would be leaving together. Introductions could be made when they were safely away.

He exited the video room and made his way down to the detention level without incident. He took out the guards at the entrance without a problem, shoving them up under the desk out of the way. While in the video room, he'd downloaded all the access codes he needed to release the prisoners, and hoped they both were able to walk or this op would be over.

Attaching the scanner to the keypad, Clint tapped in the code and the door opened. He rushed to the cell on the right and performed the same operation. The moment he stepped inside, Alston was on him. Clint used his skills to defend himself, not attack. "Alston! It's me!"

Alston stopped in mid swing. "Barton?"

"The one and only. You ready to check out?"

"Yeah. The service in this hotel _sucks_. They don't turn down your bed and no mint on your pillow at night."

With a snort, Clint followed Alston out into the hall. "Room service leaves a lot to be desired too."

The FBI agent started for the exit, stopping when Clint went to the door on the left. "Let's _go!_"

"We're taking your cellmate too."

Returning to Clint's side, Alston kept a wary eye on the exit. "Make it fast. I don't wanna be here when they figure out what's going on."

Clint nodded as he opened the second cell and stepped inside. "Hey, buddy. Time to go!" The scent of cherries reached him just as the figure on the bed tossed off the covers and sat up. "Naomi?"

"Clint! Thank God! Where are we? Who _are_ these people?"

He stepped forward to take her in his arms at the same time a grunt followed by a thud came from the hallway. As he started to turn, his entire body stiffened like a board, he lost all motor skills though he could still hear and see what was going on around him. Naomi called out his name, but he couldn't respond, and a moment later he was unconscious.

The man wielding the Taser stepped fully into the room backed up by several guards, a malicious grin on his face as he hit Clint again watching him writhe on the floor.

~~O~~

After pacing her cell for what seemed like hours, Naomi finally lay down and pulled the covers over her. She'd tried talking to the guards, but they just told her to shut up. Very briefly, she thought about pulling the "my father is very important so you better not piss him off" card, but didn't think they would care or if they even knew of the existence of SHIELD and that he was the director.

Clint had come to the area to find Trevor Alston who was now an FBI agent. She still reeled from hearing that bit of news. He'd been an arrogant, narcissistic jock in college, always bugging her, asking her out. At least until after that race he'd had with Clint. Once Clint was gone, she'd only seen Alston on the odd occasion, and when she did, he would say hello and keep on walking. Once or twice she'd looked over her shoulder to see if he was checking her out, but he always kept his eyes forward. She'd wondered what Clint had said to him that day on the roof. When she got home, she'd ask. Provided he rescued her…again.

"Can't believe I've been kidnapped _again_," Naomi muttered aloud. Rolling over to face the wall and pulling the covers over her head so the camera couldn't see her, she tried to go to sleep She'd almost succeeded when she heard voices whispering in the hall just before the cell door opened.

"Hey, buddy. Time to go!" Clint! Throwing the covers off, she jumped out of bed as he stepped into the room, his eyes going wide when he saw her. "Naomi?"

"Clint! Thank God! Where are we? Who _are_ these people?"

Clint had only taken one step forward when every muscle in his body stiffened to the accompaniment of electrical crackling and the smell of ozone. The noise stopped and Clint fell to the floor. The man wielding the Taser hit him again and when she tried to go to Clint, the guards raised their weapons.

Rage built up inside her that the man would continue to send jolts of electricity through Clint's body even after he was unconscious. "What the _hell_ are you doing? You're going to kill him!"

"That's the plan."

At the sound of a familiar voice filled with malicious glee, Naomi's gaze shot up to the owner's face and a gasp was forced from her lungs. "I-I…" The sound of the Taser stopped though the ozone smell lingered and the brightness of the electrical discharge left spots in her vision. "Troy Bishop?"

Troy made a mocking bow, his mouth turned up in a cruel grin. "I go by Dietrich now. So good of you to join us, Naomi."

"Not like I had a choice."

He stepped over Clint as if he were a bag of trash, the hand not holding the Taser reaching out to brush his fingertips lightly over her cheek. "How I've missed you, my dear."

Naomi turned away from his touch with a shiver of revulsion. "Can't say the same."

Over his shoulder, Troy said, "Put them in separate cells." He nodded at Clint. "Handcuff him to the bed. Hands _and_ feet."

"No, Troy! You can't…" Facing her again, Troy slapped her across the face so hard she stumbled into the wall. She tasted blood on the inside of her mouth and glared at him as one hand touched her cheek where it stung, but he hadn't broken the skin.

"You never did know your place, Naomi."

Head held high, Naomi stood her ground. "Oh, I knew my place alright, but you couldn't accept the fact that I didn't really love you. But that's what sleeping with your partner was all about. A way to get back at me." She clenched her fists at her side. "I knew you were sleeping with Shelby long before I caught you in the act. By that time, I didn't care."

"Ah. There it is. The truth at last."

Again that mocking smile. She'd always hated that smile. "You knew the score going into our relationship, Troy. I-"

"Dietrich." This time, Troy's voice had a hard edge to it that she knew better than to ignore.

"_Fine_. Dietrich." Not wanting to continue an old argument, she let out a long breath of air as she collapsed onto the edge of the bed. "Whatever you're going to do to me, go ahead. I probably deserve some of it, but leave Clint out of it. He's not to blame for…"

Planting his feet shoulder width apart and crossing his arms, the Taser still in his right hand, Troy spoke over her, "Oh, but he _is_ to blame. If he'd died the way he was supposed to twelve years ago, you wouldn't have spent the intervening years thirsting for something that was out of reach. You would've grieved and moved on. But knowing he was out there somewhere kept just a tiny spark of hope alive."

"What? You-" Troy laughed, a harsh and punishing sound meant to wound, but Naomi was beyond that at this point. Even his next words didn't faze her.

"My plans reached much farther than just marrying you." His stiff posture suddenly relaxed and he smiled. "With Barton out of the way, I'd planned on giving you a shoulder to cry on and when the time was right, I would begin my campaign to make you fall in love with me."

Naomi lifted her hands and let them fall. "I don't get it. If you never loved me then why did you keep asking me to marry you?"

"As the son-in-law of Nick Fury, I would've had the leg up I needed to become a member of SHIELD where I would make myself indispensable. Then, when he retired, I would be appointed as his successor making me one of the most powerful men on Earth."

Getting to her feet, Naomi waved her arms. "You romanced me in order to realize your dream of becoming the director of SHIELD?"

"As a stepping stone to my ultimate goal of becoming the head of the World Security Counsel." Troy came forward to tower over Naomi, but she refused to back down. "And the only thing standing in my way was Clint Barton."

"You can't blame _him_ for the things _I _did. I wanted Clint from the first moment I saw him, and once I fell in love with him, there was no going back. Even if he _had_ died twelve years ago, I still wouldn't have married you. He was-_is_ my one and only. If I can't have _him_, I don't want anyone else."

Troy raised his hand as if to strike her again and she forced herself not to flinch. "You'll regret saying that, Naomi." His hand dropped down to his side as he abruptly left the room.

_No, I won't._ Heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribs, Naomi's knees gave out and she collapsed onto the bed once again praying that she hadn't made things worse for Clint, knowing that she'd done just that and had no idea how to make it better. For the first time since she was a child, she wished her father was here.

~~O~~

Out in the hall, the guards came to attention though Troy barely noticed. Jacob was waiting for him at the exit. He turned right and kept going with Jacob beside him. "Send the doctor to check on Barton and Alston then make certain that they're well taken care of. I want them in top physical condition for what I have planned."

"Of course." Jacob tapped his headset, his voice echoing through the facility. "Dr. LeGrand to the detention cells."

~~O~~

Every muscle in Clint's body ached making him glad he was lying on a soft surface. However, the fact that he was handcuffed to the bedframe did nothing to improve his mood. Even though his head pounded in time with his heartbeat, he forced his eyes open to take in his surroundings. "Sonofa****!"

Experimentally, he tugged on his wrists and ankles, but was held fast. He'd just have to convince someone to let one of his hands free. They had to let him pee sooner or later, and if he got lucky, they'd release his left hand instead of is right. He also noticed that his suit had been replaced with a T-shirt and sweatpants.

"_Welcome back, Barton._"

The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. "Where're Naomi and Alston?"

"_You needn't worry. They're being taken good care of. At least for the moment. How long that continues depends on you._"

"Who are you?"

A harsh chuckle came through the hidden speakers. "_Call me Dietrich. I'm the leader of this little organization._"

"_Little?_ Is there anything you're _not_ into?"

"_You have a point. But that's not why I called. Someone will be in to see you soon. Behave or it will go very bad for your friends._"

Before Clint could respond, the door to his cell opened and an older man with a doctor's bag and a stethoscope around his neck came in accompanied by an armed guard. With Naomi's and Alston's lives in the balance, he didn't dare complain when the doctor examined him and took his vitals. He asked about tingling in his extremities, sore muscles and headaches, seeming to be satisfied when Clint told him he had none of those symptoms. When he left, another guard brought in a tray and then he was alone again. Ignoring the food, he went to the door and looked out through the tiny window. "Naomi? Alston?"

"Clint?! Are you alright?" Naomi's voice.

"Yeah. You?"

He heard a door rattle and assumed it was hers. "I'm okay."

Alston's voice intruded, a grin apparent in the tone. "I'm fine, if anyone cares."

"Of course we care, Trevor."

"Good to know. Who _is_ that guy anyway? He sure knows the two of you."

Naomi made a sound of frustration. "He _was_ an FBI agent by the name of Troy Bishop. He and I were…involved for a while."

Alston was the one to respond. "I remember him. He went missing on an op over a year ago. Now we know what he's been up to."

"Enough talk!" The guard's voice cut short their conversation so Clint went to the table and sat down to eat. He'd wait a few hours to let the guards think they were being compliant then see if the FBI's training program was a comprehensive as SHIELD's.

Relaxing on the bed, Clint went over all the likely scenarios that could be in the process of being played out. None of which ended well for everyone involved. Especially for Bishop or whatever he was calling himself these days, because the scenarios that Clint was envisioning always ended with Bishop impaled with an arrow just as Decker had been.

A little while later, the guards came in to check on them then left again without speaking. One guy glared in his window and Clint ignored him. After a while, Clint got bored so he did some basic calisthenics. He was contemplating calling out to the others again in defiance of the no talking rule when the lights dimmed but didn't go out. They did the same thing at night on the helicarrier and that gave Clint an approximate time of day. He waited then pulled out the spoon he'd palmed before they'd taken his tray and used the handle to locate the best spot on the wall for his purpose.

Again using the end of the handle, he tapped the wall using Morse code and was pleased to hear a response. He and Alston brainstormed over what was likely to happen in the next twenty-four hours, neither of them coming to any firm conclusions.

Frustrated with the current situation, and concerned for Naomi, Clint disregarded the no talking rule once again. "Naomi?"

"Yeah?" There was a slight tremor to her voice, and that's what he didn't want.

"Whatever happens, whatever I say or do, know that I believe in you. Never forget that." He wanted to say he loved her. Had never stopped, but again, this wasn't the time or place. "Do as Bishop says without question. But do _not_ show fear. Never let him see you're afraid. You're one of the bravest people I know. You can _do_ this."

"But…"

Clint slapped the door, the sound echoing in the short hallway, not caring if he attracted the attention of the guards. "Promise!"

"O-okay. I promise." He couldn't see the door to her cell, but he could picture her in his mind. Both hands gripping the short bars in the window, leaning close, trying to see him as he was her, and nodding reluctantly.

"Good. Try to get some sleep." The exit opened, Clint quickly took off his black T-shirt and threw it over the back of the chair. When the guard looked in, Clint was on the floor doing push-ups facing away from the door. "…ninety-six…ninety-seven…ninety-eight…ninety-nine…one hundred." He turned over onto his back so that he could now see the guard's face framed in the window and began doing sit-ups. "One…two…three…four…" The face disappeared and he stopped, but kept counting until he heard the door shut then stopped.

Figuring he'd need a good night's sleep for whatever Bishop had in mind, Clint splashed water on his face, used the T-shirt to dry on and lay down to stare up at the ceiling. He knew he was being watched and his disobedience was calculated to let Bishop know that he intended to use any means necessary to bring him down.

~~O~~

Though the mattress had been thin and lumpy, Naomi had managed to sleep at least part of the night, and most of that had been because she knew Clint was nearby. He probably had a plan for getting them out. All she had to do was wait for it. Troy wouldn't be stupid enough to let them be alone together meaning there was little chance that he'd be able to share that plan with her so she had to be ready for anything.

After the guards brought breakfast, oatmeal, a bowl of fruit and coffee, Naomi sat in the middle of the floor meditating. It was something that Maria had taught her and if ever she needed to calm her mind it was now. She'd just reached a state where she could keep from screaming obscenities at Troy and the guards when her door opened.

This time there was a female guard and somehow that just made the situation worse as far as she was concerned. They didn't restrain her, but when she stepped out into the hall, she saw that both Clint and Alston were now wearing prison transport restraints. Apparently they weren't taking any chances.

Naomi tried to catch Clint's eye, but he kept his gaze averted. Alston, on the other hand, gave her a smile and a confident nod, and she smiled back.

As they left the detention area, Naomi was taken to the left while the men were taken to the right. She'd promised Clint that she wouldn't show fear, but she had to speak to him one more time, just in case. "Clint?"

Huffing in what sounded like irritation, he turned to face her. "_What?_"

Clint's tone surprised her. He seemed annoyed and there was not one glimmer of affection in his gaze. "Be careful."

"Great advice." His humorless chuckle confused her as did the sarcasm. "You should've stayed in Chicago. Why McNeil recruited you is beyond me, 'cause you obviously don't have what it takes to make it. In this job, you can't play it safe. You have to be someone who takes risks, pushes the envelope, and it's just not in you." She gaped at him, uncertain what was going on, why he was pushing her buttons, but she wasn't given the time to puzzle it out. "Go. Run home to Mommy, little girl. You don't belong here." He flashed a smirk at her, one he'd used before then turned his back letting the guards lead him away.

The female guard kept hold of her arm, pulling her inexorably forward. She was taken into a room that was barely bigger than her six by eight cell. The walls were bare as was the floor aside from the chair bolted to the exact center of the room. There were restraints for the wrists, ankles and head. She didn't balk when she was told to sit though thankfully the woman and man just stood guard though they didn't strap her down.

With her head in her hands, she thought over the dreadful things Clint said as he was being taken away. He'd never given any indication that he thought she couldn't cut it as a member of SHIELD. And what he'd told her the night before about cooperating and not showing fear. What he'd said just now didn't track with his previous instructions.

Then she remembered the smirk. It was _that_ smirk. The one she'd seen on his face the day she'd choked on the hot dog and he'd teased her. Later, he'd confessed that it had been _that_ moment he'd known he loved her. Now, he'd used it as his way of telling her he still loved her.

A few minutes after she was brought to this horrible place, her thoughts of Clint were interrupted when the door opened and Dietrich came in. There seemed to be nothing left of the kind man he'd been when they were together. Unless this was his true personality and the kindness had been the façade. She was a psychologist. Why hadn't she seen his true self? Or maybe she did, but subconsciously, and that's why she never gave in to his suggestions that they move in together or agreed to marry him. Maybe she hadn't wanted to see this side because that would mean she'd taken yet another wrong turn on the road to happily ever after.

But none of that mattered. Not anymore, because Clint loved her. And just like when he'd dealt with Gary Decker, he would get them out of this. She didn't know how, and didn't really care, but as long as they could be together when it was over…

A monitor she hadn't noticed when she came in lit up as the door opened and Dietrich entered. He nodded and the guards were suddenly on her and within seconds she was strapped to the chair. A panel in the wall opened and a shelf slid out. On it was an array of medical instruments, but in this context they had taken on a malevolence on a level with some sickening horror movie.

On the monitor, she saw Clint and Alston. They were being led through the woods with hoods over their heads, the restraints making it hard for them to walk. Alston fell and was jerked back to his feet by the guards then given a shove to get him started again.

"I thought you might like to watch this as its promises to be quite entertaining." Naomi lifted her chin, but said nothing. "It's been some time since my men have been hunting."

"Hunting? What are you-" A lump formed in Naomi's throat at the implication. The guards were going to hunt Clint and Alston. Hunt and kill them. She struggled against her bonds. "You _can't!_"

Dietrich came to stand in front of her, a cruel grin making his formerly handsome features twist grotesquely. "I can and I _will_. This isn't our first rodeo, Naomi. We've perfected this over the years." He bent down so that his face was level with hers. "Twelve years ago, it was me who made Barton as an agent. And as my reward, I was allowed to direct his…interrogation."

"You mean his torture." Her words had a sharp edge, and if he took offense, that was too bad.

He shrugged offhandedly. "Call it what you will. Either way, he won't be making it home alive this time." Reaching out a hand, he used a finger to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. She turned her head trying to get away from his touch. "And that's not all. It was also me who encouraged Decker to 'follow his dream' of punishing you for the death of his fiancée."

"But she _didn't_ kill herself."

"True. Someone else had it in for Rachel and we may never know who it was. But it worked to my advantage. Decker and I had known each other in the Marines. I knew how he thought, especially after his accident. So I whispered conspiracies into his brain and blamed you. My plan was for you to be so scared for your life that you'd finally contact your father for help then I would volunteer to as part of the protection detail Fury would assign. And when that didn't work, I had to find another way." Standing up again, he spread his hands wide. "Now here we are."

Naomi sensed that anything she might say now would only make matters worse for all of them so she kept quiet, her eyes on the monitor. The hoods were removed from Clint and Alston as were the restraints. The two men tensed, but the guards had weapons trained on them giving them no choice but to comply. The man in charge gave them instructions then handed Clint a mini iPad though she doubted it had the capability to contact anyone that could help. Clint looked at the screen then turned in a circle until he faced the camera. Knowing that he could see her, Naomi gave him a confident smile. He didn't respond except to hand the device back and speak to the man in charge.

He handed both men a watch, Clint strapping his around his left wrist. The guards moved out of range of the camera, all but their leader.

Tapping his headset, Dietrich said, "Jacob, let's make this a little more interesting for our targets."

Nodding, Jacob pulled out a small caliber handgun and shot Alston in the leg.

"No!" The word was wrenched from Naomi as Alston fell to the ground, a hand over the wound. Clint crouched next to him then unbuckled Alston's belt, yanked it from the loops and strapped it around the agent's upper thigh. "How _could_ you…"

"Easily. And _you_ get to watch. Oh, don't worry. My men won't cheat. The cameras are there for us. So we can watch the drama as it unfolds."

"You're a monster."

Dietrich thought that over a moment. "You may be right, but that debate is for another time. Right now, it's time for the show so just relax. It'll all be over soon."

The confidence Naomi had in Clint's abilities wavered just a little as she watched him help Alston to his feet and the two of them disappeared into the woods.

**TBC **


	13. Chapter 13

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 13**

Clint and Alston had gone about a quarter of a mile before Alston asked, "You've got a plan, right?"

Adjusting his grip on the taller man, Clint said, "Yeah."

When Clint didn't follow up, Alston was forced to ask, "So what's the plan?"

"To _not_ get killed."

"_Besides_ that."

Propping Alston against a tree, Clint checked the time. "Working on it. We've still got eleven minutes to get as far away as we can, hide and wait for rescue."

Sliding down to sit on the ground, Alston grimaced in pain. "Or…"

"Or we take the hunt to them." Crouching next to Alston, Clint examined the wound. The left pant leg was soaked with blood though the bleeding had slowed. The bullet had missed the bone so the only surgery needed was to remove the bullet and repair the damage.

The FBI agent jerked when Clint probed the area. "Ow! We? How much help am _I_ gonna be?"

"It's just you and me so the we is us." Listening intently, Clint got to his feet. "I'll be right back." Being as quiet as possible, Clint searched the general area. He'd been all over while watching the compound and he'd recognized a group of trees. About twenty yards beyond it he found a huge log with a hollowed out area underneath. Vines and weeds had grown to cover it enough that Alston could hide while he took out their pursuers. "Come on. I got an idea."

Before they could move, one of their trackers was on them. Alston did what he could until his leg gave out and he fell. Clint couldn't be concerned with him as he fought with the bearded man. The guy had five inches and thirty pounds on him, but Clint was fast and agile. They were evenly matched in skill until Beard bent at the waist and charged Clint like a linebacker knocking them both to the ground. They rolled around in the underbrush, Beard using his greater mass to pin Clint face first to the ground with a hand on the back of his neck while using the other hand to punch him in the kidneys.

The pain in his ribs caused a flash of memory to surface, only he wasn't on the ground. In this memory, Clint was strapped to a chair as he was systematically beaten. He pushed the memory aside even as his head began to throb. Getting his hands under his shoulders, he lifted himself just a few inches off the ground, but it wasn't enough to give him leverage.

And then just as suddenly, the weight was gone. Panting, he rolled over onto his back to see Alston standing over Beard holding a small log. Beard shook his head and started to get to his knees. Alston held the log over his right shoulder like a Louisville Slugger and hit him again, this time knocking him out. He tossed the log aside as Clint sat up rubbing his head over his left eye.

Alston got down next to him, a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just…" Clint was suddenly overwhelmed with images, frightening visions of being repeatedly beaten and tortured. They came at him faster and faster, filling his head with the sights and sounds of another time.

He saw himself hiding in the woods watching another building, similar yet different than the Consortium's current location. So intent on getting as much intel as possible that he'd stayed too long in one place. When he moved on, the patrol had been closer than he thought and he ran right into them…literally. With his hands held high in the position of surrender, he'd given them what they wanted: his name and reason for being there.

_Marlow Fenwick from Abilene, Kansas. Been travelin' around lookin' for work and this guy tells me you're hirin'_.

At first, his story had been accepted at face value and he'd been taken into the compound where he was brought before the captain of the guard. The man had looked him over and asked questions, mostly about his ability to handle weapons. His cover as an unemployed construction worker had been expanded to include a short stint in the military so he rattled off the names of several weapons currently in use by the Army then was taken to a firing range to be tested where he'd passed with flying colors.

Clint's good fortune hadn't lasted, and one night while patrolling the perimeter, he'd been taken into custody and charged with being a government agent. He'd been thrown in a cell and had spent the next several weeks enduring physical and mental abuse that would've broken most men. Somehow, he'd managed to hold on despite the pain and humiliation with which Tiny and George had assaulted him.

For twelve years, that time had been a blank slate just waiting for someone to write on it. But now it all came back to him in vivid larger-than-life color, bringing with it the pain of his injuries. A hand touched his shoulder and he covered his head with his arms, curling into a ball to protect himself. The hand was removed and the words that came through the ringing in his ears were soft and soothing, like a parent comforting a child after a nightmare, assuring him that it was all a dream.

But it hadn't been a dream. Everything he'd experienced had been all too real. The voice continued to speak, the anxiety and concern so vastly different from the harsh commands of his captors. The hard concrete changed into leaves and grass and the sharp pokes of twigs. And the voices of Tiny and George turned into another, familiar voice as the memories where overlaid by the sounds of birds chirping and small animals scampering through the trees.

Slowly, in case _this_ was the dream, Clint uncurled his body, every muscle and bone aching as he rolled onto his back and sat up. Blinking to clear the last vestiges of his worst flashback ever, Clint dropped his head into his hands. Alston touched him on the shoulder again making him jump.

The FBI agent pulled away as if he thought Clint would hit him. "You okay?"

Moaning, Clint got to his knees then to his feet. Holding his hands out in front of him, he wasn't surprised to them shaking, though with adrenaline, fear or a combination of both, he didn't know. "Yeah."

Sitting on the ground, his injured leg straight out in front of him, Alston exhaled loudly. "S***, Barton! You scared the _crap_ outta me. What the hell _was_ that?"

Forcing his eyes to focus and his breathing to slow, Clint used the tail of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face and neck then helped Alston stand. "Later. Let's go."

Going as fast as they could, the two men returned to the dead tree and Clint helped him down into his hiding place. "Now what?"

"We get weapons and start taking them out. Stay here."

Alston made a smarta** remark, which Clint ignored. Too much was going on inside his head for him to care at the moment. He cocked his head listening then moved off toward the sound of footsteps. Most people wouldn't have heard it, but to Clint it sounded like an elephant stomping through the rain forest.

When he got close, he crouched behind another dead tree and waited for the biggest to pass by his hiding place. Clint stepped out behind him and got him in a sleeper hold before he knew what hit him. The man sagged to the ground and Clint relieved him of his weapons.

Using the man's belt, he tied his hands, took the headset and hooked it over his left ear so he could hear when the others were talking to each other. At the moment, it was quiet. Clint then went after the guy's partner, leaving him tied up as well and adding more weapons to the arsenal.

Keeping one Sig and two of the K-bars, Clint gave the rest to Alston. "If I don't come back for you in _one hour_, the main road is that way. Head for it, get to a phone and contact Fury. Until then shoot at anything bigger than a raccoon."

"What if I accidentally shoot _you?_"

Clint grinned. "You won't hear me until it's too late."

Alston shook his head and grinned as well. "You'll have to tell me your backstory one of these days."

"Lookin' forward to it." Now that they were armed, their chances of getting out of this alive had gone up dramatically. He passed the second headset to Alston and headed out.

The hunted had just become the hunters.

~~O~~

The monitor split into more than a dozen screens, each showing a different part of the woods surrounding the compound. And though she searched frantically, she couldn't see Clint or Alston. That meant they hadn't been caught yet.

Off to the side, Dietrich had his head down listening to chatter from his men. From the set of his shoulders, the news wasn't good.

Clint had said, _You're one of the bravest people I know. _Maybe it was time to start showing it. Relaxing her features into an attitude of calm, Naomi let one side of her mouth lift in a half-grin. "Lost contact with any of your men yet?"

"Quiet."

"You do know that you've sent over a dozen men after a man who hangs around with superheroes and not six months ago, helped repel an alien invasion that nearly destroyed New York City."

Dietrich turned his head just enough to speak over his shoulder. "I said be _quiet._"

"Or what? You'll hit me? Kill me? That's been your plan all along, hasn't it?"

He faced her now, the self-assurance dimmed. "My _plan_ is to have you sit here and watch the man you love hunted down and killed like an animal. _That_ hasn't changed."

"You don't sound very confident. Did something happen?" Naomi injected an innocent tone into her voice.

Turning his back on her, he continued to confer with someone over the headset. "What?! Five? How could he…" Remembering too late that he wasn't alone, Dietrich shouted at the guards, "Get out! Both of you."

From past experience, she knew one of Troy's biggest faults was that he hated appearing weak in front of people he considered his inferiors. It undermined his authority and he couldn't bear the humiliation.

While his back was turned, Naomi bent forward and used her teeth to unbuckle the restraint around her right wrist. With a hand free, she unbuckled the left wrist, and her ankles. But she didn't try to leave. Instead, she got to her feet, her shoes making almost no sound on the hard floor.

After giving the medical instruments an inspection, she shuddered and turned back to watching the monitor. A gasp escaped before she could stop it drawing the attention of Dietrich.

He started toward her, but she wasn't looking at him. His eyes followed hers, both of them zeroing in on the lower left corner as Clint came into view. He stood looking up at the camera before jumping up to hang by one hand from a branch, his feet planted on the trunk and knees bent. Reaching around to his back pocket, he drew out one of those big knives he always carried, using it to pry the camera loose. He stuck the knife between his teeth and jumped down. Holding the camera up in front of him, Clint gave it a wink and a jaunty salute just before he smashed it against a rock turning that panel to white noise. Naomi clamped her lips together to keep from laughing out loud as he systematically did the same to the others as well.

Dietrich's forehead crinkled in irritation. "How did you get out of your restraints?"

She sauntered around to the front of the chair and sat down again. "I'm more resourceful than you thought." He snorted at her, but didn't call the guards. It wasn't like she could get away. She'd been unconscious when she was brought in and hadn't the slightest inkling of the layout of the building. She didn't even know what floor she was on. Only that there were no windows. "Could I get some water, please?"

He didn't respond to her directly, but a few minutes later, one of the guards came in carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and two glasses. He set it on the shelf with the medical instruments and left.

Naomi poured the water then handed one to Dietrich. The startled look he gave her made her smile sadly. "Despite what you might think, I don't hate you, Troy. I just never loved you."

Something crossed his features, and just for a moment, it seemed as if the "old" Troy was back then his expression hardened again. One hand went to his headset as he listened to what was being said by the men hunting Clint and Alston. The look he shot her was filled with rage. "What the _hell_ is he doing to my people?"

She wanted to take a step back at the vehemence in his tone, but refused to show fear. "What he was _trained_ to do. Did you really expect anything else?"

"I expect him _not_ to kill my men."

Naomi took an angry step forward, hands clenched at her sides. "Clint doesn't kill indiscriminately _or_ for pleasure. But that's something _you_ wouldn't understand. He has ethics, a moral code. If there were any doubt that a target was guilty, he wouldn't take the shot."

"So what you're saying is that when he kills people, he does it in the nicest way possible? He's serving a higher moral purpose?"

She didn't rise to his baiting. "They're probably unconscious and tied up waiting for someone to come collect them." A flash of light caught her attention, her eyes going to the monitor. All but two of the cameras had been disabled. The ones that were left were aimed at the main entrance and an open area. No movement could be seen on either one.

The door opened and a guard came in. Naomi didn't recognize him and he didn't spare her a glance. He went to Dietrich, the two men conferring in urgent whispers. Dietrich was already angry, and what the guard said amped it up even higher.

"What's going on? Troy?"

He ignored her and left the room. The guard came back a few minutes later, taking her by the arm and dragging her down the hall to another room. Dietrich was inside just tucking in his shirt. He strapped on a thigh holster, shoved a handgun into it then attached a K-bar to his belt. Lifting his pants leg, he shoved a smaller gun into the ankle holster, pulling his pants leg down over it. He thrust ammo into the remaining pockets and picked up a nasty looking gun that she assumed was an automatic or semi-automatic assault rifle. It could even have been a sniper rifle, but she doubted it. She'd only fired handguns, so she really had no idea, but she kept thinking about guns to keep from thinking about why Dietrich might be arming himself so heavily. Then he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her after him. "You're coming with me. I want you to be there when I kill Barton. Make even one move to interfere, I will put a bullet in your heart and stand by while he watches you bleed to death. This is your _only_ warning."

~~O~~

Adjusting his injured leg made the pain worse, but Alston endured. If Clint could survive being tortured for weeks, he could do this. Turning his wrist over, he saw that the one hour time limit was nearly up. He hadn't heard much of anything except small animals and maybe the raccoons he'd been warned about, but no people. It aggravated him to be stuck here while his friend was risking his life though there was little he could do about it.

A sound off to his right put all his senses on alert. Something big was moving through the underbrush. Alston took out the Sig, released the safety and waited. Sure enough, one of Dietrich's men came into sight about thirty yards away examining the ground for tracks. And naturally that would lead him here.

Alston didn't want to kill the man, but would if he had to. It just wasn't his first choice if he could talk his way out, but he sensed that wouldn't happen here. Shoving the Sig into his waistband, he took a deep breath and climbed out of the hole. As quietly as possible he positioned himself behind the trunk of a large tree. Having palmed a rock, he tossed it once in the air then threw it to get the guard's attention.

There was the rustle of footsteps in the underbrush coming closer. Alston waited until the man passed him then delivered a punch to his kidneys. When he swung around, Alston grabbed his weapon arm pushing to toward the ground, turned on his good leg facing away from his opponent. Drawing his right arm across his body, he drove his elbow back and up into his face several times. Finally, the other man released his hold on the MP7, grabbing Alston's shoulder and spinning him around.

Gritting his teeth at the pain, Alston forced himself to ignore it as he engaged in a rapid-fire hand-to-hand. The guy got in a lucky shot making Alston see stars briefly, but when his opponent came in for the final blow, the FBI agent dropped into a boxer's stance. Right cross, left cross, jab, jab, jab, hook. And the _pièce de résistance_, upper cut. The man swayed on his feet, Alston hopping to the side to let him fall on his face.

He spent a few minutes tying him up then gagged him as well as removing his headset and throwing it as hard as he could. Another check of the time told him it was now past the deadline Clint had imposed. However, there was no way he'd be leaving the other man behind.

After changing the bandage on his leg, he headed back toward the compound, stopping at his former hiding place to pick up the rest of the weapons. Then, armed to the teeth, he set out to find, and if necessary, rescue his friend.

~~O~~

Hiding in the woods, Clint waited for Dietrich to show up certain that he'd gotten the message. He'd taken out his men and all but two of the cameras leaving this and one other in operation to force the former FBI agent to play by _his_ rules.

The main door opened and Dietrich came out dragging Naomi with him. That was a wrinkle he hadn't anticipated, but he could work with it. He followed Dietrich and Naomi through the woods to the place he'd chosen and removed all the weapons he'd been carrying. This thing would go down hand-to-hand or not at all.

Dietrich ordered Naomi to sit on a stump, and Clint was glad to see her comply, though her eyes glowed with the desire to tell him off.

"I'm here, Barton." When Clint didn't immediately step out, Dietrich took out a handgun, chambered a round and held it to Naomi's head. "Show yourself now or she dies!"

Without making a sound, Clint stepped into the clearing. "I'm here, Bishop."

"What did you do to my men?"

Shrugging, Clint held his arms away from his body so Dietrich could see he was unarmed. "For guys who belong to a crime syndicate, they don't know how to fight. They actually thought I'd stand there and let them shoot me."

"Like you're doing now?" Dietrich raised the muzzle of the MP7, sighting on Clint's chest.

"You won't kill me. Not without trying to humiliate me first." Relaxing his stance, Clint waited.

Going to a clump of bushes as far from Naomi as he could, and with deliberation, Dietrich divested himself of every weapon and the ammo for them, including the knives. He rotated his head and flexed his arms then faced Clint who'd already moved out into the clearing. "Just you and me, Barton. Let's do it."

~~O~~

Natasha kept conversation to a minimum as she strapped on her Widow's Bites. Banner sat beside her tapping a heel on the floor. They wouldn't need the Other Guy, hopefully, but Banner's medical expertise would come in handy if there were injuries.

Clint hadn't answered his comm since Fury had gotten the message that his daughter had been taken, and that worried Natasha just a little. If Clint already knew that Naomi had been kidnapped, he was more than likely mounting a solo rescue right now. She didn't give him much of a chance against the overwhelming odds, especially in light of the fact that he might be captured by the same group that almost killed him twelve years ago. He still didn't remember being a prisoner and Natasha didn't know how it would affect him to be one again. But Clint was strong in mind and body, Loki's influence aside. He had his friends and now Naomi to help him through, just in case.

Stark took a set of what looked like magnetic bracelets from his pocket slipping one around each wrist. "Open the back when we're about ten minutes from the landing site. I'll do a flyover. Get the lay of the land and report back."

Fury didn't respond, but she knew he'd heard and debated if she wanted to go with Stark or approach the facility on foot. A few minutes later, the decision was made for her when the hatch opened, Stark jumped out and the Mark VIII took off after him.

Going to the edge with Banner, Natasha watched Stark fall, the suit opened and wrapped around the billionaire, the propulsion system engaged and Stark was out of sight. Hitting the door control, they returned to their seats as the hatch closed again.

Turning in her seat, Hill pushed the headset off one ear. "We'll be landing as close to the main entrance as possible."

Banner fidgeted with his collar then rubbed the back of his head. "What's the plan? Or did you bring me along so the Other Guy could open a few doors?"

"Only as a last resort. For now, we need you here to treat any injuries Alston, Barton or…" she glanced at Fury and away, "…Dr. Marks may have sustained."

"If we go by Barton's previous experience, it could be very bad. How do you expect me to treat traumatic injuries with what we have on board?"

The turbines whined as Fury throttled back in preparation for landing. "If it comes to that, we can fly them to the nearest hospital."

Natasha checked her handguns then took out one of her boot knives, examined the point and replaced it just for something to do to keep from pacing.

Fury spoke into his headset. "On approach, Stark. Once inside, we need you to download their database then destroy it."

"_Copy that._"

The quinjet circled the benign looking building locating a clearing just big enough to set down in. By the time the engines shut down, Natasha had opened the back, Fury and Hill on her six. When they neared the building, Fury put a hand up to bring them to a stop. "Let's wait here while Stark opens a few doors for us."

Right on cue, Iron Man flew into sight, hovering above the ground. Using his repulsors, he blasted the doors open then settled on the ground though they didn't immediately join him, taking their cues from Fury.

Hill came to stand next to her boss. "Director?"

"It shouldn't be this easy." With a huff, he led the way. Natasha and Hill flanked him with Stark watching their backs. "What's the inside look like, Stark?"

"_Just your basic crime syndicate hideout. The computer room is on the second sub-level, the detention cells are on the third with the head honcho's office on the ground level. How about we split the difference. You guys do the rescuing while I do the genius work?_"

Nodding, Fury pulled his weapon, chambering a round. "I'm on the leader. Hill, Romanoff, get our people out." He received nods of agreement from each as they quickly followed Stark.

Stark clomped through the opening leading the way to the elevators. Without warning, a squad of armed men and women burst out of the door at the far end and another came around the corner that intersected. With a hiss, Stark's helmet covered his head and both hands came up, the repulsors glowing.

Fury dropped to one knee, his weapon spitting bullets as Hill ducked behind a corner. She popped out a moment later and, between the two of them and Stark, they sent their opponents flying, stunned, unconscious, dead or dying. The hostiles landed in a heap after slamming into the concrete walls and reinforced door. One managed to maintain consciousness, but Natasha took care of him with a well-placed kick to the head.

As they rounded the corner, more guards engaged with them, some coming from behind. Natasha didn't know where they'd come from and didn't care. With a growl, she performed a jumping spin kick and sent the first man's weapon soaring through the air and Stark blasted it. Flexing her wrists activated her Widow's Bites. Sparks leapt from the impact site in the middle of his chest, every muscle in his body pulling taut and a moment later, he was on the floor.

~~O~~

Deep within the compound, a lone figure sat at a computer keying as fast as he could. It had taken a while to break the encryption on the financial records, but he'd done it. Now he commended himself for downloading the Consortium's database to an offsite digital storage where he could access it at any time. He also set a trap for anyone who tried to access the information without the proper security codes. When the trap was sprung, every last bit of Consortium data and money would be automatically transferred to the new accounts he'd just set with the offshore banks and data storage, and anything that was copied would be corrupted.

His head came up sharply as the sound of fighting reached him. Taking a flashdrive from his pocket, he inserted it into the USB port, typed a few commands and let the computer run. Scooping up his weapons, he rushed to join his squad in fighting the invasion.

~~O~~

Over the next few minutes, Hill watched Natasha methodically throw the men around, some twice her size, beat them senseless, step on them, and wipe the floor with their dignity and self-respect. And she did it all with a proverbial smile on her face.

Hill got into a standoff with the lone woman in the group, swaying back and forth for a beat, battling for possession of the MP7. The blond guard slammed Hill against the wall. She grunted, but didn't let go. The other woman twisted the weapon side to side breaking Hill's grasp and shoving the stock against her throat, grinning nastily. Hill tried to break her hold, but the lack of oxygen sapped her strength. Dark spots appeared in her vision as her body weakened and began shutting down.

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 14**

Just before Hill lost consciousness, the pressure on her windpipe disappeared and she was able to draw in great gulps of air. She coughed a few times then a hand covered in red and gold metal came into her line of sight to help her stand. Stark had retracted his visor so his face was visible. "Thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Always a pleasure to give a lady a hand." He gave her a salute then just as quickly, his smile turned to irritation, his left hand came up, the bright of the repulsor hurling several armed men into the walls knocking them unconscious. "Some people never learn. I'm gonna head down to the computer room. JARVIS?"

"_Accessing now, sir._" There was a pause. "_There are several layers of encryption that will need…behind you, sir!_"

The suit looked unwieldy, but Stark made movement look fluid as he spun and disposed of yet another squad. "Thanks for the heads up."

"_You're welcome. If you would make your way to the computer room, I will need your assistance very shortly._"

Stark nodded to Hill. "Duty calls." He clomped away and Hill brought her weapon up to take out another guard. There were fewer coming now than in the beginning so they were making progress.

Fury ejected the magazine from his weapon and shoved another home. He squeezed off five more shots then got to his feet, turning to watch Natasha take out the last three guards. One obstinate fellow refused to stay down. He reached for her and she jumped up to wrap her legs around his neck, twisted to the left and slammed him into the wall. With the last of the guards down, they could finally get back to the more important work of rescuing their comrades.

With a nod, Fury jogged down the hall and disappeared around a corner headed for the leader's office. Natasha and Hill followed taking the stairs to the third sublevel.

On the detention level, they found the main doors open as well as those of the cells. Hill went into the last cell on the right, took one look around and grinned. "Agent Romanoff." When Natasha joined her, Hill pointed at the table.

"Clint was here." Both women were in agreement because someone had made an obscene suggestion by spelling it out with elbow macaroni on the table top. It was dried and disgusting having been there at least overnight.

"He _does_ have colorful vocabulary, doesn't he?" Hill quipped.

Natasha smirked and tapped her headset. "Romanoff to Fury. Barton, Marks and Alston aren't here. We're starting a room-by-room search of the entire floor."

The SHIELD director sounded as ticked off as ever. "_Same here. The leader hasn't cleared out, the chopper is still on the pad and no vehicles have left the area since we arrived. They have to be on the grounds somewhere_."

Hill joined the conversation. "I agree, sir. We'll work from here to get some answers and meet you at the main entrance in fifteen."

"_Roger that. Fury out._"

Turning to speak to Natasha, Hill found she'd slipped away without a sound. Not a surprise, but they were supposed to stay together. The dark-haired agent found her companion in a room down the hall leading away from the cells. A chair was bolted to the middle of the floor and had wrist, ankle and head restraints. A shelf with bizarre medical instruments displayed indicated that this was no ordinary interview room as did the blood stains on the chair and floor. Hill knew what Natasha was thinking because she was thinking it too. Clint must've been beaten and tortured in a room just like this one twelve years ago. But their biggest concern was whether he, Naomi, or Alston had been the recipient of the Consortium's special brand of hospitality. If so, who was it? Or had all of them been questioned? None of them? And where were they?

The last question was answered when the women turned toward the exit and saw the monitor. Only two of the panels were active. One showing the warped metal doors that had been part of the main entrance. The other showed Clint and another man fighting hand-to-hand in a clearing while Naomi sat on a stump watching with one hand over her mouth. Whenever the stranger got in a shot, the psychologist would wince and turn away, but just for a moment. A few minutes later, she got up, skirted the edge of the clearing and began rooting in some bushes coming up with a handgun.

Then, off to the right of the screen Alston came into view, a MP7 dangling from his neck and leaning a long branch as he limped over to Naomi's side. A makeshift bandage was tied around his upper left thigh and his pants were covered in blood.

"Where is that?" Hill asked.

"No idea." Natasha tapped her headset. "Stark? Tap into the surveillance system and access camera Juliet-three. Find out where it's located."

The billionaire's voice came through the PA rather than their headsets. "_Roger that. It's one hundred yards east of the main entrance._"

Fury checked in. "_I've got the goods on the leader. And you're in for a surprise._"

Stark was still on and added, "_JARVIS has downloaded their database. We're dropping a virus that will wipe out all of their records and transfer all funds to charities in their names._"

Fury again. "_Their cover in the area was an anti-government militia. Make those charities incredibly embarrassing, like Greenpeace_."

Natasha and Hill snorted and exchanged a look at Fury's scathing tone. "We're heading up. See you there." Stark and Fury were already waiting when they reached ground level. With Stark in the lead, they turned toward the exit. The group had just turned the last corner when one of the guards they'd dispatched earlier got to his knees and tossed a small metal canister in their direction.

~~O~~

Stark yelled, "Grenade!" His helmet slid into place as he pushed his companions to the floor and used his repulsors to keep the flames and debris from raining down on them. A few of the smaller pieces of concrete made it past, one chunk hitting Fury and leaving a bloody spot on his cheek. Dust filled the air making them cough. "Everyone okay?"

"We're fine," Natasha said sharply as she helped Hill stand. "But we're also trapped."

Scoffing, Stark said, "JARVIS, what's the best way out?"

"_The way you came in, sir._"

Fury stepped up next to the billionaire, his hand out, a wry grin in place. "After you, Iron Man."

"Stand back. This could get messy." Stark waited for Fury, Natasha and Hill to retreat around the corner then raised both hands. The particle beam pulverized the huge chunks blocking the hallway and entrance. Once he'd made it outside, his companions picked their way through the leftovers to his side.

~~O~~

Tired of waiting for Dietrich to make the first move, Clint considered throwing a half-hearted punch just to get things started, but that turned out not to be necessary. Overhead, he heard the distinctive sound of Stark's Iron Man armor rocketing through the air followed by the rumble of a quinjet's engines coming in for a landing providing just the distraction Clint needed.

He purposely took his eyes off of Dietrich to give the man an opening which he took full advantage of by rushing forward and taking a swing at Clint's jaw. The archer ducked out of the way and Dietrich ended up turned to the left leaving his side exposed. A fist to the ribs then an elbow to the back of the head made him stumble, but he righted himself, immediately going on the offensive.

Dietrich shifted his weight to his left foot, lashing out with his right and catching Clint in the stomach. "I bet it's driving you mad knowing that I've been with your woman."

Clint didn't glance in Naomi's direction as he stated coolly, "It was _her_ decision and had nothing to do with me."

"But doesn't it bother you that some other guy has been tapping that well?"

Clint didn't like Dietrich's tone _or_ phrasing, but he couldn't let his emotions show or the other man would take advantage of it. "Naomi's a big girl and doesn't need anyone's permission _or_ advice on who to spend time with."

Knowing what the other man was up to, Clint didn't rise to the bait Dietrich was casting into the water. He continued to defend himself from his attacks while Dietrich tried to goad him into reacting in anger, without thinking. "Surely you have an opinion."

Now Clint allowed one side of his mouth lift. "Always, but it's none of my business." Dietrich backed away from Clint giving both men more room to maneuver. What Clint really wanted to do was check on Naomi to see how she was handling all of this, but he refused to break eye contact.

"So you have _no_ regrets about the last twelve years?"

"More than anyone will ever know."

A quick turn on his left foot, Dietrich lashed out with his right. Clint caught the leg and twisted. Dietrich used that momentum to spin and kick with the free leg, forcing Clint to release him or be hit in the face. Dietrich was on his feet again before Clint could press the advantage. "But the woman you were in love with was sleeping around. Most men would be at least a little pissed off."

"I have no right to be. You saw to that when you made me as an agent twelve years ago." With both hands at shoulder height, Clint blocked a punch aimed for his head, using his right elbow to smash Dietrich in the solar plexus. Using the same hand, he grabbed Dietrich's neck and brought his face to his knee. The strain of the fight sharpened his words. He _was_ outraged, but didn't want Dietrich to see. The former FBI agent's eyes widened in shock, and Clint smirked with malicious glee. "I remember _everything_ now. It wasn't just me, Tiny and George in that interrogation room. You were there too, getting your own shots in, but mostly just watching Tiny and George work me over day after day." Clint also remembered something else, but he'd keep that to himself for now.

Dietrich used his bent position to ram a shoulder into Clint's stomach to which Clint retaliated by slamming his knee into the other man's stomach, following it up with a right cross, left cross and an uppercut. Dietrich stumbled backward momentarily stunned, but it didn't last. The Consortium leader's leg came up and around, intent on knocking Clint's head off.

Clint ducked and rolled back to his feet in time to dodge a wild swing then another kick. Grabbing Dietrich's leg, he used it to control him then knocked the supporting leg from underneath. Dietrich landed on his back, rolled onto his stomach and pushed to his hands and knees.

Without a pause, Clint connected the toe of his boot with Dietrich's ribs. The other man grunted in pain and he flopped onto his right side, holding his left arm close to his body.

Panting from his exertions, Clint retreated to see what Dietrich would do next. He started to get to his feet then collapsed with a moan, unable to continue. Though he knew better, Clint had to see Naomi, to know that she was alright. While his eyes sought her out, Dietrich grabbed handfuls of dirt, rolled onto his back and threw it in Clint's face temporarily blinding him.

"Ah!" Quickly brushing the dirt from his face and blinking, Clint stumbled a few steps before Dietrich tripped him. Dietrich flipped him onto his stomach then dropped to one knee with the other in the middle of Clint's back to hold him in place. Grabbing the hair at Clint's crown, he pulled his head up so that his throat was exposed and placed the point of a knife at his jugular. Unable to see, Clint didn't dare move, but that didn't mean he couldn't continue the fight. "I'd've thought a knife to the jugular was too quick for you. Don't you wanna make me suffer? Maybe humiliate me some more?"

"Shut up! You and I are gonna get to our feet and calmly walk over to the helipad where you will fly me away from here."

"_Not_ gonna happen. You…"

The crunch of footsteps in the underbrush came near, stopping just a few feet away. Clint prepared to defend himself, stopping in mid motion when a voice shouted, "Let him go!"

~~O~~

From her place on the stump, Naomi watched Dietrich and Clint circling each other neither willing to throw the first punch. A sound overhead caused her to look up and while she was searching the skies, the two operatives had begun to fight. Dietrich's warning about interfering echoed in her mind. But how could he follow through on his threat to kill her if he didn't have a weapon?

Getting to her feet, she slowly made her way to the opposite side of the clearing to where she'd seen Dietrich stash his weapons. She examined the MP7 just long enough to figure out how to remove the magazine. A cursory glance told her there had to be at least forty rounds. She shoved it into her back pocket just in case then picked up the Sig. Now that she knew how to handle even if she wasn't that good at it. She had no idea where Alston was, and if the situation didn't go in Clint's favor, it would be up to her to stop Dietrich from killing him.

And just as she feared, Dietrich had somehow managed to gain the upper hand. There was no way she would let this rogue FBI agent kill the man she'd never stopped loving. Raising the Sig to eye level, she waited for the two men to stand and aimed for the center of Dietrich's forehead. He deserved to die slowly and in the most painful way possible. If she got a clear shot, she'd take it. In the stomach so it took a long time for him to die.

Earlier, when she heard Troy, a man she'd once cared enough for to consider marrying, however briefly, confess that he'd been the one to turn Clint in to the Consortium, she'd wanted to kill him then and there. Claw his eyes out with her bare hands, but she hadn't been given the chance. Well, now she would get her revenge. "Let him go!"

~~O~~

The sound of fighting gave Alston a direction. Though they were less than thirty yards away, it took some time for him to make the trip even with the aid of a sturdy branch. By the time the clearing came into sight, he was exhausted. The blood loss, running for his life, the fight with the guard and the long walk back had taken its toll on him. His leg was bleeding again and if he fell down now, he'd likely not be able to get up again. He'd have to be carried and didn't want that.

The fighting ended abruptly and when he stopped at the edge of the clearing, Alston witnessed an alarming sight. Dietrich had a knife to Clint's throat and Naomi was aiming a gun at Dietrich. He didn't know how that had happened and didn't really care at this point. All he wanted was for this nightmare to be over with. And if that was in any way how Clint had been feeling for more than a decade then he had even more respect for the archer. Inwardly he winced. Both men were covered in scrapes and red spots that would be bruises before morning. And by the way Clint was moving, he likely had bruised or cracked ribs.

As badly as he wanted to sit down, Alston knew he had to neutralize the situation before it got even more out of hand. In the same gentle voice he'd used when Clint suffered the flashback, he edged to Naomi's side, adding an easy-going smile. "Hey, Naomi. What's goin' on? Catch yourself a bad guy?"

"Stay back! He's hurt too many people, and it _ends_ here!"

He didn't show his reaction to her harsh words. "I get it. He took something from you. But he should pay for his crimes in a court of law. If you kill him now, it'll be murder. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in prison for _him_?" He gestured to Dietrich and realized the man was no longer kneeling over Clint. Dietrich had risen to his feet, the knife in his hand held away from his body.

At Naomi's gesture, he tossed the knife away, and Clint palmed it.

"Shut _up,_ Trevor!" Faster than Alston had thought possible, Naomi pulled the slide back to load a round into the firing chamber, her aim never wavering.

"No. I won't let you do this. Maybe Bishop does deserve to die, and if he's convicted, that could be his fate, but not this way. Not by vigilante justice."

"It's better justice than he deserves."

Seeing that being reasonable wasn't working, Alston tried for humor. "Can't say I don't agree with you. Just out of curiosity, what's gonna be your plea? Temporary insanity? 'Cause I gotta say you look just a little crazy right now."

"Wouldn't _you_ be? I've been kidnapped _twice_, and both times were his fault." But she was thinking things over. Alston edged closer one step at a time, reaching out to wrap his hand around the muzzle of the Sig. When he tugged, she let go.

Clint had come to stand next to Naomi. Slowly, she lifted her head to look at him, taking a deep breath before stepping into his embrace. With more tenderness than he'd thought Clint was capable of, he held Naomi close, whispering softly to her that everything would be alright, that she was safe now.

Alston's relief at resolving the situation without someone being seriously hurt was short-lived. Dietrich chuckled then began to laugh, his face twisted into a sneer. "Stupid woman! You're _weak_ and a coward. I've always know it. Why do you think I cheated on you while we were together? Shelby was _twice_ the woman you are, especially in bed. Having sex with you was like ******* a damn stuffed animal. All you ever did was lay there. If you'd showed even the slightest hint of passion…"

Alston's genial attitude vanished. Eyes narrowed, he lifted the Sig and aimed right between Dietrich's eyes. He also saw Clint tense and prepare for another fight. From the corner of his eye, he saw Clint take the knife from his back pocket and flip it so he was holding the blade ready to throw it if need be. "Maybe _she_ wasn't able to kill you, but I've done it before _and_ I'm willing to do jail time. However, I expect to get off with just a slap on the wrist, if that, once the judge reads the list of offenses you've committed. And I _am_ defending a woman's honor, after all."

Clint spoke up for the first time since Alston arrived on the scene, his tone cold and expression deadly. "Yeah? How d'you figure that?" His question might have sounded clueless, but it wasn't. He seemed to be trying to figure a legitimate way to murder the guy and make it look like a righteous kill.

"There's only the four of us and while we were having our little tea party, someone turned off the camera." Now the FBI agent was grinning. "So you see, I could've let Naomi kill you and this would all be over, but then we wouldn't have the immense pleasure of watching you go to prison. And not some cushy minimum security facility with tennis courts and saunas. We're talking Raiford, Sing Sing, Attica, maybe even Gitmo."

Searching through the pile of weapons Dietrich had left in the bushes, Clint brought out a pair of handcuffs, letting them dangle from one finger. "So what's it gonna be, Bishop? Prison or…"

With a long sigh, Dietrich submitted to having his hands cuffed behind his back and being none too gentle about it. But before the group could make their way back to the compound, the whoosh of Stark's Iron Man suit passed over head as he circled once then landed within the clearing. The helmet retracted to show Stark's smiling face. "You had a party and didn't invite the rest of the team? Pepper will _not_ be a happy camper, Legolas."

His blue-gray eyes barely starting to twinkle, Clint shrugged and added with a tired grin, "What? You didn't get my Twit?

"That's _Tweet_, Legolas, and we've been a little out of touch, what with taking down a national crime syndicate, rescuing prisoners, destroying the compound of said crime syndicate and almost being buried under tons of concrete."

Fury stepped forward to make his presence known. "Looks like you gentlemen, and lady, have everything well in hand."

~~O~~

Naomi had been quiet, too quiet. She knew it and knew Clint knew it as well. She'd gone into his arms, and though she hadn't cried, her body had shaken with the force of her anger, fear and the massive amounts of adrenaline coursing through her system. For something to do, she led Alston over to the stump to examine his wound, her head coming up sharply at the sound of Fury's voice.

There was one last bit of business she had to take care of. "Be right back," she told Alston then stomped over to where Natasha and Hill had taken possession of Dietrich. "I have something to say to _Troy_ before you take him away."

She took a deep breath, let it out then inhaled once more. And just like that, it was all gone. The emotional pain, the fear, the rage. Opening her mouth to speak, she thought better of it and snapped it shut again. Dietrich…_Troy_, she reminded herself again, scoffed at her as if to reiterate his earlier assessment of her personality and their relationship. With a growl, she placed a hand on either of his shoulders, dug her fingernails into his skin and brought her right knee up _hard_ right into his genitals. The men cringed and the women did nothing to hide their amusement.

His hands cuffed behind his back and unable to break his fall, Dietrich slumped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, his knees up to his chest and moaning. Unsympathetic, Natasha and Hill jerked him upright again, Hill hauling him in the direction of the quinjet. He forced her to stop, turning to look at the faces of the real life heroes. "You are such an a******, Fury! The position of SHIELD's director should be mine! If I'd been in charge, that whole debacle with Loki and the invasion wouldn't have happened. OW! Sonofa*****!"

Dietrich was so angry he hadn't noticed Naomi advancing on him again. She balled up her fist and popped him on his already sore nose. "That's _Director_ Fury to you!"

She didn't hear Clint whisper to Stark with pride, "That's my girl! Whoa!"

Naomi had seized Clint's hand in a strong grip towing him behind her. "Come on!"

After a few steps, he found his footing. "Where're we going?"

"You're taking me home. Now!"

Clint, having recovered some of his normal good humor, grinned over his shoulder at Stark and Alston. "Yes, ma'am!"

**TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 15**

Watching from the room at the end of the hall, Jacob waited until Iron Man and the other Avengers left the building before coming out of hiding. He'd been knocked unconscious with his squad and had come to just a short time later. His mother had always said he had a hard head and this proved it. He'd hidden from the Avengers as they searched the facility, his mind working furiously. How to get away without being spotted? It was unlikely that they'd leave the place unguarded and soon the compound would be overrun with a SHIELD sweeper team.

Making his way back to his quarters, he changed into a pair of worn jeans that hadn't been washed, hiking boots and an old plaid shirt. He mussed his hair, tore the shirt in several places then checked his look in the broken mirror over the sink. To pass himself off as an escaped prisoner, he needed more "evidence" that he'd been questioned. He remembered a movie he'd seen with his sister and her kids where Jim Carey's character had given himself a working over in order to postpone the divorce hearing of his client.

He punched himself in the face several times, splitting his lip and hopefully blackening his eye. But to be completely convincing, he needed more severe wounds. Bruised or cracked ribs would do it. Going down to the detention level, he examined his options. With today's forensic technology, he had to make it appear that he'd been beaten. The bruises he had from his last sparring session with the captain of the guards helped. Now onto the ribs.

Gritting his teeth, he threw himself at the arm of the chair. It hurt so bad it brought tears to his eyes, yet he'd have to do it again. And when he did, a cry was ripped from his throat that would surely have brought the SHIELD agents running if they hadn't left the building.

Now all that remained was for Jacob to present himself to the agents and play dumb. His climb to ground level was extremely painful, but worth it if they bought his story. He came up with a brainstorm as he neared the exit. Chunks of concrete were scattered over the floor amidst spent shell casings, bullet holes, blast marks and the still unconscious guards. He carefully bent over to pick up one of the smaller chunks and hit himself over the right eye just hard enough for there to be blood. When it dripped down onto his shirt, he was ready.

Stumbling out into the now fading sunlight, he moaned in pain to get the attention of the agents just returning. There were two women and a man with an eye patch. "Help! Someone help!" He collapsed just as they reached him, panting and groaning with every breath, yet they still looked at him with suspicion.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" This from the man with the patch. The infamous Nick Fury.

"Danny Larimore. I was hiking and these guys dressed all in black captured me, accused me of being a spy or something. I've been here for weeks! My mom and sister must be worried to death!" As if it were all too much for him, he sank to the ground, his elbow close to his side as he groaned in pain.

Fury glanced at the taller of the two women, she nodded and touched her headset. "Hill to Banner. We've got another patient for you." She listened for a moment. "Banner's on his way. Alston and Barton need additional medical attention so they'll be taken to the nearest hospital with a trauma center as soon as Banner's done here."

Fury nodded. "I've already called for the sweeper team. We'll take Mr. Larimore in the second trip." He looked down at Jacob, a small amount of kindness entering his expression. "You'll need to be debriefed."

Jacob waved a hand. "Whatever. As long as I can see a doctor."

The woman with the red hair had to be the infamous Black Widow and he tried not to flinch when she came close enough for him to see her Widow's Bites. Only two of the Taser-like devices remained and he counted himself lucky that she hadn't hit him as soon as he'd stepped outside.

He heard footsteps, and a man with dark hair and an anxious expression came to him, setting a first aid kit at his feet. As the doctor examined him, he congratulated himself on getting away with his ruse.

~~O~~

While Hill went through the preflight check list, Clint made sure that Dietrich was secured in the aft section so he couldn't get away and wouldn't be injured during the flight then checked on Alston. Banner had given him something for the pain or he'd passed out. Either way, the wounded FBI agent was asleep on the stretcher with an IV in the back of his left hand. Naomi crouched, tucking the blanket up around him then giving his hand a squeeze. Banner came up the ramp to her side and she gave him a questioning glance.

"He'll be fine. Just needs surgery to remove the bullet and make a few repairs. He'll be out of commission for a few weeks, flying a desk for a few more then back to work."

"Good."

There must've been something in her expression because Clint heard Banner say, "You okay?"

"Not sure. Dr. Banner…"

"Bruce, please."

"Bruce…" there was a long pause, then she spoke, her voice stunned, "…I almost killed someone today."

Clint kept his expression neutral while listening in on their conversation. Naomi would no doubt have questions for him later, but for now, she needed someone to talk to who could be objective. Someone who didn't have an emotional investment in her wellbeing beyond that of a doctor. "The important thing is you _didn't_. And from what I heard, you showed great restraint. Barton too." He slanted his eyes at Dietrich and back. "If he'd been saying those things about someone I cared about, he'd've had to deal with…the Other Guy."

"The Other Guy? Is that what you call…him?"

Banner shrugged sheepishly and smiled. "Since he's always there waiting for me to get angry enough to let him out, I had to deal with that fact without letting it ruin the lives of the people around me. And treating him like a separate personality is a way of coping."

Naomi nodded, and Clint knew she would be alright. It might take a while for her to come to terms with what she almost did today, but she'd be fine. Going to the front, Clint started to slip into the co-pilot's seat, but Hill shook her head. "I got this, Barton."

He frowned, his eyebrows drawing together over his nose. "You need a co-pilot and I'm all that's available."

"I _don't_ need you passing out on me." As the turbines whined into their start-up sequence, Hill raised her voice to be heard. "Hey, doc. I need someone to side seat fly. Wanna take a crack at it?"

Banner's eyes widened with just a small amount of fear. Or was that excitement? Clint could seldom figure out what the scientist was thinking. "Uh, sure." He dropped into the right seat, slipped on the headset and buckled in.

With a smile in her voice, Hill told Banner, "Relax, doc. Won't be any shooting."

"Good." He didn't sound as if he believed her as he listened intently to her instructions.

Naomi had taken a seat on the port side of the ship, arms crossed, chewing on her lower lip. She was so deep in thought she jumped when he sat next to her and draped an arm around her shoulders. "You okay?"

She inhaled, held it then exhaled and shrugged, immediately turning into his embrace. He kissed her on the temple and laid his cheek against the top of her head. Her hand touched his chest and he covered it with his holding in a wince when she moved making his ribs hurt. They stayed just like that for a few minutes then she asked, "Those things he said…what if he's right?"

"He's _not_. You are smart, courageous, strong…" To show Naomi that he meant every word, Clint planted small kisses from her temple to her jaw and over to the corner of her mouth. "And very, very passionate." With a quick glance over Naomi's shoulder, Clint made sure that Dietrich was watching then turned her face to his and captured her lips. She moaned and slipped her hand around to the back of his neck, the fingers playing with the short hairs and making goose bumps pop out all over his skin. Her tongue touched his lips and he let her in. By the time they separated, they were both breathing heavy. "It was _him_, not _you_."

Sighing contentedly, she dropped her head back to his shoulder. The hand in his hair had come to rest on his side and it was all he could do not to react when she touched an especially sore spot.

"Clint?"

"Hmm?"

Pushing herself upright, Naomi scooted a little closer, her hand coming to rest on his thigh and giving it a slight squeeze. "_You_ are even more amazing that I thought."

"Howzat?" He could feel the last of the adrenaline fading from his bloodstream leaving him with almost no energy. Rubbing a hand over his face, he let his eyelids close just for a moment and started to drift until she spoke again.

"By not letting Dietrich get to you. Staying in control no matter what he said."

Clint shrugged and shifted to get more comfortable, but it didn't help. Bruises he hadn't felt when they happened were starting to make themselves known though he wasn't sure if they were actual bruises or remembered pain from years ago. Naomi's voice became softer then stopped altogether when she fell asleep. Tightening his arm fractionally to let her know he would be here when she awoke, he let out his own sigh of contentment.

~~O~~

"…I know it's probably training for SHIELD or the circus, but still an admirable skill. And not to change the subject, or rather to get back to an old one, I think you're right. We should try again to make this work. I know you'll be too tired tonight, but how about I take you to dinner tomorrow night anywhere you want? Clint?"

Naomi sat up when a loud snore came from Clint's throat. His head had fallen back onto the headrest, his mouth open. Another snore came out making her snicker. She carefully lifted the now limp arm from around her shoulders, scooted off the seat and laid it in his lap. Giving him a loving smile, she went to check on Alston.

The FBI agent was still asleep, his right hand resting on his stomach and his head turned slightly toward her. Examining his features, she matched it with the memories from college, her psychologist's mind cataloging the differences. The biggest difference was in his attitude. In college, he'd been arrogant, pompous and condescending. Something had changed him beginning just after Clint had left. Not once since they'd met again had she caught him ogling her backside or talking to her chest instead of her eyes. In her experience, most heterosexual men will still window shop even if they don't plan to buy.

Getting to her feet again, Naomi didn't even think of glancing at Dietrich. He hadn't said a word since being brought onboard and that meant they agreed for the first time since shortly after they'd started dating. She approached the cockpit then changed her mind. Turning on her heel, she stomped into the rear compartment where he was buckled into a seat, his hand cuffed to an overhead bin.

"Wanna know _why_ I stayed with you even after I knew you were sleeping with Shelby? For the stupidest reason of all. I was lonely for the company of a man. Not just for sex or falling in love, but to _talk_ to, spend time with in social settings so I wouldn't be that one pathetic single woman sitting alone at company functions or at get-togethers with married friends." She paused to let Dietrich get a word in edgewise, but he just stared at her without blinking, a bland mask in place. Lifting her arms, she let them fall to slap against her thighs. "Why am I even telling you this? I don't have to explain myself to you or anyone else."

With a hiss of exasperation, Naomi turned away, coming back when he spoke. "If he cares about you so much, why didn't he look for you?"

"In his mind, he thought he was protecting me. And now that I know…" she waved her arms to encompass the ship and by extension all of SHIELD, "…everything, I understand his reasoning. Where he and I go from here is something we'll work out together. Maybe we'll end up a couple or maybe we won't, but it will be a mutual decision this time. Not one imposed by someone else's idea of right or wrong." She thought of her father and got annoyed all over again. Turning away from Dietrich, she headed for her original destination, sticking her head into the cockpit. "How you doing, Bruce?"

"You'd have to ask my instructor." Bruce nodded at Hill and the senior agent spared them both a quick glance and a smile.

"He's doing great. I could teach you to fly, doc."

"Ah…" He got a look of mild panic in his eyes just for a moment, "…_not_ a good idea. Wouldn't want the Other Guy to get nervous."

Hill shrugged. "If you change your mind…"

The console beeped, signaling that they were approaching their destination and Bruce rushed to respond. "This is Delta five three calling St. Peter's Hospital."

"_Delta five three__, this is St. Peter's. What's your origin?_"

"Classified, St. Peter's. Clear the landing pad. We have injuries and are on approach vector…" Bruce rattled off a string of numbers that meant nothing to Naomi. Bruce and the hospital talked back and forth until he finally convinced them that they did indeed have an injured man on board. "ETA five minutes."

When they landed on the ground level helipad, the slight jolt woke Clint. He'd slumped in his seat and scooted upright, a hand going to his side and wincing. Naomi stood in front of him, arms crossed. "You're hurt, aren't you?"

"Not really. Just some cuts and scrapes. A good night's sleep and I'll be fine." He flashed her an earnest smile. She didn't believe him, but he did make an effort and she appreciated it. Right now, their main concern was having Alston taken care of while making sure Dietrich didn't get away.

Leaving Hill to watch over the prisoner, Naomi, Clint and Banner followed the medics as they lifted Alston onto a stretcher and rolled him away. Inside, the emergency room was bustling with activity, a controlled chaos to anyone looking in from the outside.

Banner went to confer with their doctors while Naomi drew Clint to the waiting room and pushed him into a seat when he started questioning the doctor himself. Clint objected, but Naomi didn't let that stop her. He wanted to be involved every step of the way whether it caused an inconvenience for others or not so she removed him from the scene before he could annoy the doctors. "Let them work. They'll take good care of Trevor, I promise."

Hiding a yawn behind his fist, he scrunched down in his seat. "I'm just concerned that the FBI might lose a good agent."

Pursing her lips to keep from grinning, Naomi held his hand. "He's your friend, Clint. You're allowed to be worried about him."

All Clint did was shrug, cross his arms and stare at a place six inches in front of his nose. With an affectionate grin, she went down the hall to the ladies room. When she returned, Clint was pouring himself a cup of coffee. As he returned to his seat, he limped on his right leg, moving stiffly. In an unguarded moment, he winced and brought his right hand to his ribs. _He doesn't have enough sense to say when he's hurt._

Naomi stood in front of Clint, and he paused in taking a sip from his cup, his eyes traveling from her waist up to her face where she let him see he'd been busted.

~~O~~

The moment Naomi appeared in front of him, he knew he'd been caught. Carefully setting the cup aside, he sat up as straight as he could to convince her she hadn't seen what she thought she'd seen, but she wasn't buying it.

"Stand up." That was her don't-mess-with-me voice and he found himself instinctively obeying. His ribs hurt so bad he could no longer turn side to side, yet he put on a smile that felt false even to him. "Take it off."

"Sorry?"

"_Take_ your _shirt_ off. Now, Barton."

A rhythmic tapping started, her heel hitting the floor as she waited for him to comply with her order and that look in her eyes said he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of this. With resignation, he shucked his jacket and lifted the shirt. "If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask."

A gasp that didn't come from Naomi had him searching for the source just as the head nurse came barreling toward them. "Mr. Barton, you said you hadn't been injured." The woman in blue scrubs took him by the arm. "It's not nice to lie, or didn't they teach you that way back in kindergarten?"

Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed him by the arm pulling him over to an empty bed and tossing him a gown. "Put that on. I'll be right back with your admission forms."

"I don't need…"

She cut him off before he could finish. "Yes, you do."

Prepared to accept the inevitable, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, but could only get it as far as his chest. "Ow! Damn!"

The curtain parted and Naomi joined him. "Let me help." With her assistance, he was able to get out of his shirt and pants and into the gown. "You lied again, Clint. I know it's your job, but not when your health is at risk."

"I'll be fine in a few days."

A different nurse came into the small enclosure with a clipboard. Naomi took it from her without a word, setting it on the table before helping him into bed and pulling the covers up to his chest. "Let the doctor be the judge." Taking the pen, she wrote his first and last name. "It's asking for your middle name." Out of habit when that question was asked, he dropped his eyes and mumbled. "Speak up."

"Francis." She snickered just as he knew she would, automatically reciting the rest of the personal information that would be needed. "Address, 1 Stark Plaza, New York. Phone number, 212-555-3846. Let me know when you get to surgeries and broken bones, 'cause that's a _long_ list."

Huffing, Naomi pulled a chair over and sat down. "Why don't we just have SHIELD send the info?"

"Don't have my phone."

"Lucky I got one from the ship." Naomi stepped out of the curtained area to make the call. She was gone so long, Clint was just returning from the X-ray department when she stuck her head in again. "What's the verdict?"

~~O~~

Clint waited until the nurse left again before answering. "I'm fine. Just bruised."

He reached for his clothes, but Naomi held them out of his reach. "I'll just see what the doctor says, if it's all the same to you."

"It's not, but doesn't look like I have a choice."

"You don't." Instead of taking the chair, she perched on the side of the bed. "I forgot your birthday."

Shrugging, Clint shifted in his chair, making a face when his ribs twinged. "No big deal. There was too much going on to think about things that don't matter."

Holding out her hand, Naomi waited for Clint to take it then gripped it tight. "It _is_ a big deal. But we were still getting used to being around each other and…"

"With all of my problems, celebrating birthdays was a trivial concern." He looked away, his eyes dropping to his lap, a small smile dancing on his lips. "Besides, your birthday is coming up soon. We'll do something special then."

"It's not until March, and I don't want to wait that long." Sliding off the bed, Naomi knelt beside him. "I want us to be _us_ again, Clint. And I want both of us to remember all those past hurts as well as the joys because they've made us who we are."

He chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah? What's that?"

"Older. Wiser. I've learned that the great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been. You take them with you wherever you go, good or bad."

What happened next made Naomi's stomach drop because it was so out of character for Clint at any age. He raised her hand and kissed the back of her fingers before rubbing his cheek on the same spot, his beard tickling. In response, Naomi framed his face with both hands, leaning in to touch her lips to his.

"Really, Barton? Making out in a hospital? Ever hear of _boundaries?_"

Stark's voice intruded on their tender moment, his tone teasing and making Clint scoff. "Like _you_ would know."

To keep herself from blushing at being caught kissing Clint, Naomi got to her feet. "I'll go see about getting your walking papers. I assume that's what you're here for, Tony. To give us a lift home."

"I sent Hill on ahead. Dietrich'll be kept in the containment chamber on the helicarrier until we decide what to do with him. There's a limo double parked so let's get a move on. It'll take you to the airfield where there's a private jet waiting to take you back to New York. I'm in the suit."

Nodding, Naomi left the two men to continue their bantering alone. When she returned, Clint was dressed again and Stark was gone. Clint climbed stiffly to his feet, bent slightly at the waist. She knew he wouldn't allow himself to be wheeled out so she just held his hand, trying not to fuss as he climbed into the limo's back seat and strapped on the seat belt with a lot of grunting and groaning. Once she was seated next to him, the driver closed the door, got behind the wheel, and pulled smoothly into traffic. They'd been on the road for just a few minutes when Clint reached for her hand. "Me too."

"Me too what?"

"_I_ want us to be us again too."

She wanted his arm around her, but with his sore ribs it would be too painful so she just rested her head on his shoulder until the end of the ride, unable to stop smiling.

~~O~~

With Pepper in a teleconference, Stark found himself alone in the penthouse sipping thirty-year old scotch and staring at the night sky blurred by the rainstorm that had settled over the area. He thought about running on the treadmill or relaxing in the Jacuzzi, but neither appealed without Pepper. Maybe a movie. He dismissed that as well and just watched the rain fall until he began to get sleepy.

He set his glass on the bar and had just stepped inside the bedroom when JARVIS addressed him. "_Excuse me, sir. There's a call for you from Agent Hill._"

"Put her through." Taking out his phone, he looked into the camera, but didn't smile. "I was just about to get some much needed beauty sleep, so make it quick."

Hill's hair, usually pinned to the back of her head, hung loose around her shoulders. Instead of her all black uniform, she wore a long sleeved shirt of some kind and cargo pants. "_Director Fury has called a team meeting for tomorrow at 0900 regarding the take-down of the Consortium. All of the Avengers except for Thor are expected to be there including Dr. Marks._"

"Why can't we just teleconference? I'll jack in from the lab."

"_No can do, Stark. This meeting is on the orders of the Council. And be on time._"

The screen went dark and Stark just stared at it. "Well, that's gonna put a crimp in my plans." He poured another finger of scotch, downing it in one swallow. "JARVIS, where is everyone?"

"_Agent Barton and Dr. Marks have just finished dinner, if you'd like to speak to them face to face." _

"Not really, but that wouldn't make me a very good host, would it?" While he talked to the AI, Stark took the back way down to the apartment level.

"_Captain Rogers is in the common area as is Agent Romanoff. Dr. Banner is asleep in his apartment and Thor is swimming laps._" Thor preferred being on the gym level and Banner's apartment was near the labs though he frequently slept on the sofa.

Each apartment had a chime, but Clint had disconnected his, preferring the old fashioned method of knocking. Stark rapped his knuckles on the door, waited exactly three seconds, and knocked again, harder this time. "Hey, Legolas! I know you're in there and I'm not going away!" There was still no answer so Stark played his trump card. "JARVIS? Open the door."

"_I'm sorry, sir, but Agent Barton has removed all of your override protocols for his personal residence. Shall I summon him for you?_"

Stark's response was unrepeatable in mixed company. His tirade ended when the door opened.

~~O~~

Naomi quickly dried her hands then rushed through the apartment, Stark's voice coming to her as she got closer. When she opened the door, Stark had his fist raised to knock again. "Tony. Hey. What's up?"

"Where the _hell_ is Barton? And how did he circumvent my override protocols?"

He started to go around her, but she stepped into his path. "Can't help you with that. And Clint's busy. Something _I_ can do for you?"

Craning his neck, Stark tried looking over her shoulder like he didn't believe her. "Doing what?"

She knew the room behind her was empty because Clint really was busy. "Taking a shower." Splashing came though the bathroom door she'd accidentally left ajar. "Um, a bath. I mean he's drawing _me_ a bath."

"Of _course_ he is. Fury's called a meeting…"

"_Naomi! Did you really have to use so much of that lavender bubble bath crap? And what are the candles for anyway? There's not enough light to read. Oh, and can you change the music? Maroon 5, Pink, something like that._" Her stomach dropped the more Stark's smirk grew. It got worse when Clint called out, "_And can you wash my back? My ribs are killing me!_"

**TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 16**

Stark grinned with the knowledge that he was in possession of information that some would pay handsomely for. Not that he would take that sort of advantage, but he did enjoy the teasing. "Well, well. Now I know what to get Legolas for Christmas. I'm sure you 'ladies' would enjoy an all-expense paid trip to The Hills Spa and Resort in Aruba. Seven fun-filled days of pampering for the mind, body and soul."

"We aren't…He's not…What I mean is…crap!" Naomi sighed, realizing she couldn't talk her way out of this. Raising her voice, she called out, "Be right there, Clint!" To Stark she said, "Not a word to the others. Please?"

Still with that smirk and more than a hint of mischievousness in his brown eyes, Stark rubbed the back of his head. "I'd say yes, but we both know it's not gonna happen." He looked over her shoulder, raising his voice to be heard over the music. "Hey, Legolas. Team breakfast meeting with Fury. Oh nine hundred. Bring your appetite. Leave the rubber duck." With a wave, he hustled to the end of the hall and disappeared up the stairs.

None of the Avengers trusted easily though they had learned to trust each other implicitly during the fight to save the Earth. And all but Banner had someone special they could turn to in times of trouble. Naomi just hoped that Clint didn't regret trusting her when his teammates started poking fun at him for taking a lavender-scented bath.

"How did Stark know I was in the tub?"

She pushed open the bathroom door, shut off the music and blew out the candles. "He heard you. And the candles, music and lavender were to help you relax. Guess it didn't work for _you_ as much as it does me."

"Crap! I'm gonna get razzed tomorrow." He said it wearily knowing that Stark would always take the opportunity to bait one of his friends.

Before getting into the tub Clint had shaved off the beard for which Naomi was grateful. She preferred him clean shaven, but understood the need to play a role when on a mission. She resisted touching his cheek as he rested his head against the folded towel she'd hung over the end of the clawfoot tub and closed his eyes.

The tub itself was bright white and more than big enough for two. The faucet, handles and a hand-held water massage were in the center of the side facing the wall. In the corner stood a shower enclosure, the frosted glass doors without design, just the way Clint liked it. The cabinets were antique white and the oval mirror was surrounded by an antique frame. In fact, the entire apartment had the feel of a warehouse converted into condos with exposed pipes and a skylight, the modern appliances all in chrome to keep the illusion alive.

When Naomi first saw it, she thought Clint had designed the apartment himself, but that hadn't been the case. The decorator Stark had hired possessed an uncanny ability to discern what the occupant really wanted underneath what they _said_ they wanted and had made it work for all of the Avengers, according to Natasha.

That the Russian had been in Clint's apartment and he in hers wasn't surprising and didn't stir even the slightest bit of jealousy in Naomi. She'd seen the two of them interacting, seeing only a strong bond of friendship and the genuine affection that knowing each other so well brought to the mix.

Kneeling beside the tub, she lathered the washcloth and gently washed his back, chest arms and legs. When she was done, Clint's breathing had evened out and he appeared to be asleep. She would've left him, but he couldn't sleep here or he'd hurt even worse in the morning.

Tugging on the chain attached to the plug, she hung it over the side as the water drained. The last bit gurgled as it disappeared, startling Clint. Looking at her blearily, he rubbed a hand over his face and yawned. Standing, she reached for one of the soft, fluffy bath towels hanging next to the sink and held it open. "Come on. Bed time for you, Hawkeye."

Clint grasped the sides of the tub, but wasn't able to lift himself higher than a few inches before his ribs complained. "Ow! Crap!" He looked at her, his eyes filled with embarrassment. "Uh…a little help here."

"Poor thing." Naomi tossed the towel on the counter then got her hands under his arms. "On three. One, two, three." She lifted at the same time he pushed up on the sides until he was able to get his feet under him.

He stepped out onto the bath mat, taking the towel from the counter and wrapping it around his waist, giving her an affectionate smile. "Thanks."

Placing her hands gently on his shoulders, she reached up to kiss him. "It's the least I can do for the man I love." Clint's sharp intake of breath and his hands tightening on her waist startled her. She hadn't meant to announce it like that. However, the delighted sparkle in his blue-gray eyes told her it had been the right thing to say. Her eyes stayed on his letting him see that she meant every word. She did love him, and had even during the bad times when they'd both tried to move on with their lives.

His calloused hands trailed over her arms and shoulders then up to frame her face with his palms. "That's good, because I love you too." Her stomach did a flip when he stroked his thumbs along her cheekbones. "Just out of curiosity, when did you know this time?"

Careful not to touch his sore ribs, Naomi rested her hands on Clint's waist. "The moment I saw you in the hospital. You were facing away from pouring a glass of water, and I just knew. What about you?"

"The moment you said my name. I didn't even have to see you to know that I'd do whatever it took for us to be together again." Her fingers flexed against his waist, the pinkies touching the top edge of the towel as they looked deep into each other's eyes for a moment both laughing at the picture he portrayed. "Falling in love in a psych ward. We are _messed_ _up!_"

Stepping out of his loose embrace, Naomi urged him into the bedroom. "It'll make a great story for…your memoirs." Again she'd almost spoken without thinking. What she almost said was "It'll be a great story for our children" when she had no idea if he even wanted children. He didn't say anything so she let it go, helped him get his pajamas on then into bed, pulling the covers up to his chest.

Before she could leave, he grasped her hand. "Aren't you going to join me?"

Though she wanted to, what he needed was rest, not her jostling him about during the night. "My brain is still whirling so I'm just gonna have a cup of tea and read for a bit."

Her excuse fell on deaf ears because Clint had already gone to sleep. She brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead, turned out the lamp and tiptoed into the kitchen to make the tea. On the end table closest to the kitchen she found a copy of _Great Expectations_. There were no other books or magazines so she settled in the corner, feet tucked under and covered herself with the colorful afghan that had been thrown over the back. Sipping the tea, she opened to the first page.

"_My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip._

"_I give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the authority of his tombstone and my sister - Mrs. Joe Gargery, who married the blacksmith. As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the days of photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were like, were unreasonably derived from their tombstones…"_

By the time she'd reached the end of the first page, Naomi too had succumbed to the lure of that sweet oblivion called sleep. She scooted down onto her back, the book still open on her chest. In her sleep, she rolled to her side and the book fell to the floor with a thump without being heard by either of the apartment's occupants.

~~O~~

As Stark reached the top of the stairs, he remembered that JARVIS had said Natasha and Rogers were in the common area, but the lights were out and they were nowhere to be seen. He crossed the enormous expanse of the room toward the penthouse deciding to leave them a wake-up call with JARVIS for the morning.

Like all the rooms in the tower, Stark knew this one like the back of his hand and didn't need to turn on the lights, though he did wonder where Rogers and Natasha were. He'd gotten to the middle of the room with a sound caught his attention. Moving in the direction it had come from, he peered over the back of the sofa, his eyes widening as he quickly backed up and darted into the penthouse, shuddering as he made his escape. "I will _never_ be able to unsee that!"

~~O~~

Once Stark had left the room, Natasha lifted her head and glared in the billionaire's direction, the recessed lighting more than enough for her to see by. Her hair was mussed, she was panting as if she'd just finished running the Boston Marathon and her clothes were rumpled.

Steve raised up on his elbows, a frown crossing his handsome features. "What is it?" His voice was husky with longing and he too was panting. The front of his shirt was open and partially pulled from the waistband of his pants.

With a smile, Natasha pushed him onto his back and resumed her place draped over his torso, her knees on either side of his hips, hands foraging in his hair. "Nothing. Don't stop!"

Before he could follow her order, she attacked his lips with hers once more, and he returned the favor. Nearly an hour later, Natasha walked beside Steve, his arm around her shoulders holding her close to his side. When they reached her door, she looked up at him, answering his smile with one of her own. He moved faster than the eye could see, and she could've stopped him from pressing her up against the wall and kissing her senseless, but she didn't want to. She enjoyed kissing him just as he enjoyed kissing her.

Steve pulled his lips from hers just far enough to whisper, "Natasha…" then stepped back to let her go. She kept hold of his hand as she opened the door and went inside, holding on as long as possible until just their fingertips touched.

~~O~~

Clint awoke with a start, at first not knowing where he was. Then the pain reasserted itself and the day's events came back to him. Had it really only been twenty-four hours? A glance at the clock gave him his answer. It was just over that since he'd been captured by the Consortium again. Only this time they'd also taken a friend and the woman he loved. The other side of the bed was empty making him feel sad that it had only been filled by Naomi's presence in the last few days.

Tossing the covers aside, he sat up on the side of the bed groaning in pain. He had to admit that the bath had done wonders for his sore muscles. However, the inactivity of sleep had stiffened them again. Going to the bathroom, he took down the bottle of ibuprofen and swallowed four with water then went searching for Naomi.

He found her on the sofa curled up and covered with that crazy afghan that Pepper had given him for his birthday. She'd been the only person to remember, and he'd been touched, though he didn't fault anyone else for forgetting. The rebuilding of New York took precedence. He could celebrate his birthday any time. Something that others, like Phil Coulson and all the other agents that were killed during his time with Loki, wouldn't get to do. He'd finally come to terms with the fact that there was no way he could've kept the Asgardian from invading his mind, but that didn't stop the guilt completely. It just took the edge off.

Touching Naomi's shoulder, Clint gently shook her until she opened her eyes. Without a word, he took her by the hand and led her to his bed, now their bed because they would be spending every night that he wasn't on a mission together, here or in their own place. It didn't matter as long as he could wake up in the night and hear her sleeping beside him, able to touch her and know that she loved him.

When they slept together like this, he preferred to have her pressed against his chest. But the doctor at the hospital had instructed him to sleep on his injured side to make breathing easier. Even in her sleepy state Naomi must have remembered that advice because as soon as he lay down, she urged him onto his right side then spooned him from behind, her face nestled into the curve of his neck and shoulder. She slipped her arm around him, letting out a long sigh before going back to sleep. He followed her moments later.

~~O~~

Standing at the head of the table, Fury started the meeting without greeting the attendees. "As you all know, Stark downloaded the Consortium's database before destroying it. New information has come to light that blows our plans for that data out of the water."

Though it had to be a shock, Stark showed nothing. His expression never changed. "Nothing was wrong with the data. I checked it out myself after the download."

Arms crossed, Fury glared with his one good eye. "As did our cyber-crimes department. However, a virus was imbedded deep into the coding that was tripped when they began their analysis destroying every last gigabyte including the account numbers to the offshore bank accounts."

Stark leaned back in his chair, a finger tapping his lips in thought. "I have those account numbers memorized and checked them myself last night after I got Hill's call. They're wiped out. Empty."

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a fox in the proverbial henhouse. Any guesses as to the identity?"

"Danny Larimore." Naomi had been looking at the table top until she noticed that the eyes of everyone were on her. "His escape was too convenient. There were only four cells in the detention area, one of which was empty, and none of us had a roommate."

Natasha swiveled her chair around to face Fury. "I agree. Hill and I did a thorough search and found no one."

Steve, who had taken a seat as far from Natasha as he could, asked, "Where is he now?"

Shifting in her seat, Hill folded her hands together in front of her. "We had to let him go. We checked him out so thoroughly, we know more about him than his mother and sister do. He and a friend, David Phelps, had gone to Satisfaction to go hiking. The first day out, Phelps sprained an ankle a couple of hours into the hike so Larimore goes on alone at Phelps' insistence. Phelps made it back to their hotel and when his friend didn't return by the next day, he reported him missing. A search was made, but there's a lot of ground to cover. He was never found and it was assumed that he'd been killed by a bear or one of the large cats that roam the area."

Banner snorted. "All this time he's been assumed dead and he was right there working for the same guys who detained him. He really had it figured out, didn't he?"

"Apparently." Fury was none too happy with the turn of events. "The problem is he's in the wind. We put him on a plane for home and that's the last anyone's seen of him."

The Avengers, Hill and Fury debated the situation for a while longer then the meeting broke up. As Naomi reached the door, Fury called to her, "Dr. Marks. A few words please."

"Of course, Director." She came back to the table and he motioned her to the chair next to him so they were now face to face.

"I didn't get a chance to say this before. You handled yourself well during the incident with the Consortium. Well done."

"Incident?! _That's_ what you call it when three people, all government employees, two of them highly skilled agents, are kidnapped and subjected to interrogation, threats and intimidation? Those men hunted Trevor and Clint like they were _animals._"

When she stopped for breath, Fury interrupted. "It wasn't meant to minimize the emotional and physical pain you, Alston and Barton suffered at the hands of that maniac. It was simply an expedient term."

"Look, Director Fury…" her tone said she was gearing up for another argument and he wanted to end it before it grew wings and took off.

"Nick."

His daughter's eyes went very wide and her mouth dropped open then snapped shut again. "Excuse me?"

"Call me Nick. We're not to the point of 'Father' yet, and who knows if we'll ever get there, but we're not just co-workers, either."

She stared at him for a full thirty seconds before her frown eased into a small smile. "Okay. Nick."

"And I didn't ask you to stay to talk shop." Reaching under the table, he took out an old black case and rubbed his thumb over the scanner to open it. He took out several old fashioned photo albums. "I wanted to show you these."

Naomi picked up the first one, but didn't open it. "What are they?"

"Agent Barton would call them proof that the Director of SHIELD has a heart." He gestured at the album in her hands. "Please. Open it."

And while his daughter slowly turned the pages, Fury walked to the window and stared out at the morning sun glistening off the water.

~~O~~

After the meeting was adjourned, Clint made his way to the Mess Hall to wait for Naomi. He would be on restricted duty for at least a week.

At the next table, Kripke stared into his coffee cup, occasionally glancing over at Hill sitting with Natasha. The women had their heads over a tablet between them, nodding and talking intently. He knew it was Hill Kripke was watching because he'd never shown that same interest in Natasha before. "Just ask her out."

The other agent shot him a glare. "What're you talking about?"

"Hill. Ask her out."

"I…" Kripke sighed. "What if she says no? Guys hit on her all the time and she shuts 'em down. I don't wanna end up in the pile of rejects with all the others."

Clint hid a grin behind his cup. "Then you need a line that's original. Something no other man has ever said to her. When you see her, what's the first thing you think of?"

Kripke looked embarrassed. "Her smile. It makes me feel weak in the knees."

"Then say 'you have a smile that would drop a man to his knees.'"

"Really? What if she thinks it's corny or lame? What if she thinks I'm joking? What if…?"

Clint's expression turned serious. "Say it and _mean_ it."

"But I'm not good at that. Whenever I try to talk to her about something other than work, I get all tongue tied."

"Don't let her intimidate you. She's good at that. Stand firm and be persistent. Just not to the point where you're stalking her." Movement from Hill's table drew the attention of both men. "Natasha's leaving. Go!"

Kripke downed the rest of his coffee and got to his feet. He ran a hand through his military short hair and walked purposefully over to Hill's table. She looked up and smiled in that bland way she had until Kripke reached out and took her hand, holding it gently but firmly when she tried to pull away. He leaned close and all Clint could see was Hill's expression.

First her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement, then her eyes widened in shock, her mouth dropping open. The shock gave way to a light blush as she nodded for Kripke to join her.

Natasha slid into a chair next to him, a knowing grin displayed. "Who would've thought Clint Barton was a hopeless romantic?"

Returning her grin, Clint sat back in his chair holding in a wince at the twinge in his ribs. "Not hope_less_. Hope_ful_. Speaking of which, congratulations."

"On what?"

"You and Rogers finally making it official."

The grin gave way to a scowl. "Making _what_ official?" Clint's grin turned into a full on smirk as one eyebrow lifted and for one of the few times since he'd known the Black Widow, she was flustered. "How did you…"

"Tasha, I _know_ you. Besides, you're glowing." The smirk faded as he wrapped his hand around hers lying on the table. "You wouldn't jump into bed without a giving it a great deal of thought and Rogers is from a time when a man courted the woman he had the hots for. They didn't cross those lines until they were sure." Clint tilted his head to the side, looking at her with the affection of a big brother. "And I know how persuasive you can be when you really want something."

Instead of responding to the bait, Natasha stole his cup and drank the last of the coffee. "What about you?"

"What about me what?"

Grinning, Natasha nudged him with her elbow reminding him of when she'd released him from the restraints following her own prescription for eradicating Loki's influence whether it had been her intent or not. "You and Naomi seem to have worked out your differences."

Again he shrugged. "It's an on-going process. Should be done in sixty or seventy years. Maybe more." Clint went to refill his cup and brought one for Natasha so she wouldn't steal his again. "Does Rogers know about…?"

"It's so new…we don't even know what this is yet." She twisted her cup, glancing over to where Hill and Kripke had their heads close together, talking and laughing over who knew what. One shoulder twitched, her eyes on the tabletop.

"You don't need _me_ to tell you the right thing to do."

Her red hair bounced as she shook her head. She got to her feet. "One reason I stopped by was to tell you we're taking down some of the Consortium's retired and semi-retired members. Thought you might wanna join us for the first few."

"Why's that?"

"What you remembered paid off. Our first stop is Trinidad, Colorado."

~~O~~

Sitting in her office, Naomi couldn't summon the motivation to work. All she could think about was what had happened in the private meeting she'd just had with her father. He'd shown her proof of having been there for every significant event in her life, even if she hadn't known at the time. Granted, with the resources of SHIELD at his disposal, he could've faked the photos and programs. But some of what she'd seen couldn't be faked. He'd made notations next to most of the photos. One such note said, "Gina wearing the necklace I gave her when Naomi was born." That detail wasn't noticeable from the photos. And her first ballet recital. It had rained that night and the program she'd seen carefully pressed between the pages of the album had been stained, the ink blurred where drops had landed. Naomi looked up when her door opened and Clint stepped inside.

"You didn't answer so I used my override. You okay?"

As if moving through molasses, Naomi tilted her head to look at him. "Uh, no. Not really. What's up?"

He came around the desk and perched on the corner. "How would you like to help take down some bad guys?"

That piqued her interest driving out the revelations from her father, at least for now. "Really?" She pushed away from the desk and got to her feet. "Let's go!"

"You'll need to dress the part. Let's hit the supply office and get you a uniform then we'll go to the armory for a weapon on _one_ condition." He held up a finger.

"And that is?"

His smile turned serious again. "You have to do _what_ I say _when_ I say it. No arguments. Yes?"

Naomi nodded reluctantly then gave him a wicked grin. "Can I get a thigh holster?"

"We're transitioning over to hip and arm holsters." Waiting a beat while he held onto her upper arms, he winked. "But I think I have an extra one you can borrow."

"Mmm. Works for me." He kissed her once before leading her out of the office and into the lift. His phone beeped. Using his thumb, he scrolled through the information and some of his good humor faded. "Something wrong?"

He gave a quick head shake. "Just confirmation of something I remembered. Our first stop is Trinidad, Colorado. We'll coordinate with the chief of police to pick up George."

"Sounds like a plan. George?"

The lift opened and they stepped out before he answered. "Yeah. When I was a prisoner of the Consortium, I had the same two interrogators. I called them Tiny and George. When everything came back, I remembered where and when I'd seen Tiny recently. And through careful scrutiny of her phone and Internet records, we were led to George, so we're picking them both up. We've also got lines on a few others."

"Good." They arrived at the supply office, coming out a few minutes later with a black formfitting SHIELD uniform in Naomi's size. "When are we leaving?"

"One hour on the flight deck." He dropped an arm around her shoulders. "What say we take a few days after this? Just you and me. No distractions."

Naomi thought about the work that had piled up while she, Clint and Alston had been prisoners and almost groaned. With Clint on restricted duty, he wouldn't be doing much except sitting around, and if she left him alone, no telling what kind of mischief he'd get into. "That would be great. Can we stop and see Trevor on the way home?"

"Yes. He'll be back in DC by tomorrow and asked us to visit. He's planned a barbeque."

"Sounds like fun." They arrived at Clint's quarters before hers. "Need help getting dressed again?"

Leaning his back against the wall next to the door, he gave her an appraising glance. "You offering?"

Holding her uniform against her chest, Naomi gave him a cheeky smile. "Yeah. And you can help me with mine."

Lowering his voice, he leaned close after casting a glance left and right to make sure they were alone. "We do that and we'll be late to the party."

She blew out a breath. "Wouldn't want that."

Clint gave her a kiss to send her on her way then set about the painful task of changing into his uniform of black cargo pants, short sleeved shirt, vest zipped in the front and boots. The last thing he put on was his thigh holster, a grin coming to him as he tossed his extra one on the bed. The belt was adjustable to fit Naomi's narrow waist. Putting his boots on was the hardest because bending over hurt like hell. But he'd gladly endure if it meant that the people who were responsible for destroying the plans he and Naomi had made twelve years ago were put behind bars for the rest of their lives. Plans they'd both made though they hadn't discussed it. It was only natural when two people loved each other as much as they did.

The PA came on announcing the departure of his team in ten minutes ending his ruminations. Just for a moment he considered taking his bow, but doubted he'd be able to pull it to the anchor point. He shoved the Glock into its holster on his left thigh, added additional magazines just in case then headed out to the deck to join the rest of the team preparing to take down as many of the Consortium's people as possible. A situation that was made so by the information SHIELD had hacked from the home computer belonging to the interrogator he'd once called Tiny. Soon she'd be paying dearly for her alliance with a criminal organization that advocated torture, _and_ for keeping such files on a device that had flimsy firewalls and encryption protocols.

And he'd be there to see it happen with a smile on his face.

**TBC **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 17**

Standing at the edge of the tarmac, Trinidad's Chief of Police Gabby Lewis, formerly of the FBI and SHIELD, watched the quinjet come in for a landing. She remembered the last time she'd been in one, and it had been the day she took her current position. She'd loved both jobs as well as her current one, and the people of Trinidad. Most of all she loved her husband, Mayor John Taulbee and their son, John Junior.

Though she didn't show it, her excitement level was high. Having federal agents request her assistance in taking down a bad guy was big news in a town where the worst crime anyone had committed during her tenure had been when Miguel Sosa had gotten drunk at the county fair. He'd driven his truck into oncoming traffic causing a car carrier to lose its entire load of brand new pick-ups headed for El Paso, Texas. There were a lot of sad country boys the Cow Poke Bar and Grill that day.

She brought the travel mug to her lips for a quick sip of coffee as the agents, armed to the teeth, came to a stop in front of her. "Well, if it isn't Hawkeye himself. Welcome to Trinidad, Agent Barton."

Clint shook her hand. "Thanks, Lewis. Good to see you again." Gesturing at each member of the team, he rattled off their names. "This is Captain Steve Rogers AKA Captain America."

"No suit, Captain?"

Steve, ever the gentleman, shrugged sheepishly. "The suit draws too much attention and we're tryin' to keep a low profile, ma'am. If Kellerman heard we were coming for him, he'd disappear into the mountains and this would be a giant waste of yours and our time."

Instead of a uniform, she wore jeans, boots, a work shirt, jacket and baseball cap with "Trinidad PD" emblazoned on the front. "He prefers to stick around town on his off time." She saw that Clint was favoring his right side, but didn't ask. She'd heard rumors-she still had friends in the Bureau-but the info had been third or fourth hand so she didn't consider it reliable.

"Agents Savarese, Rosenbloom, McNealy, Miller, Peasley, Banfield, Veltri, Dwight and…" he snapped his fingers, "…Marks. Always forget her name for some reason." He tossed a glance over his shoulder, winking at Naomi when she stuck her tongue out at him. "Nice little town you got here."

"_We_ like it." Turning toward the parking lot, Clint came along side matching his pace to hers. "And to think we've been harboring a fugitive here all this time."

"He's not so much a fugitive as he's on my personal s*** list. He's committed more than a few federal crimes. Treason, to start with."

Lewis nodded as she got into the driver's seat of an SUV converted or use by law enforcement. Naomi and Veltri, the only two women in the SHIELD group, got in behind Clint and Lewis with McNealy and Banfield taking up the third row. Peasley, Savarese, Rosenbloom, Dwight and Miller climbed into the other SUV driven by one of Lewis' officers. "Kellerman runs the auto repair shop and does taxidermy on the side. A combination I find just a little creepy."

~~O~~

The chatter continued until they pulled over and stopped a quarter mile from the garage. Clint ordered everyone to approach on foot and radio when they were in position then he and Lewis would make contact. When Naomi tried to follow, he stopped her. "Where do you think you're goin'?"

"With them."

He opened the back door and waited until she'd resumed her seat before slamming the door and getting back in the front passenger seat. "We talked about this. You're with me on this op."

Naomi crossed her arms and pouted. "You never let me have any fun."

Lewis stared at the two of them as if she thought they'd gone nuts. "Did I miss something, Barton?" She looked closer at Naomi, her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement when she realized the other woman looked familiar.

"Lewis, you remember Naomi DeLuca."

"Yeah! Didn't know you were an agent."

Clint answered before Naomi could respond. "She's a psychologist, not an agent."

Naomi's answer was to huff at him. "I passed my quals."

"Barely." She avoided Clint's eyes and didn't say a word, just crossed her arms and looked out the window as he faced forward again, his radio crackling. "They're in position. Let's go." To Naomi he said, "When we get there, stay by the vehicle until the others move in. Got it?"

"Got it. Don't like it."

With a snort of triumph, Clint pulled his weapon, checked the magazine, replaced it and chambered a round. "Don't have to. Just _do_ it."

Lewis drove the rest of the way to the repair shop and parked. The sound of metal hitting metal came through the open garage doors. From their vantage point, Clint and Lewis could see a man with his head under the hood of a ten-year old Ford pick-up. At one time he'd been lean and muscular. He was still strong, but his waistline had begun to spread and his hair to gray. Even from behind, Clint recognized him as his former interrogator, the one he'd called George.

When they were beyond Naomi's hearing, Lewis whispered, "How long have you and she been married?"

"We're not." One eyebrow crawled up Clint's forehead and included a small grin. "Soon though."

"I've heard of long engagements, but _this_ is ridiculous." Clint didn't get a chance to answer. Following Lewis' lead, he stopped ten feet away. Lewis had her jacket unzipped, one hand resting near the weapon on her right hip. "Afternoon, Billy."

The man addressed as Billy pulled his head from under the hood, took a rag from his back pocket and started wiping his hands. "Hey, Gabs." His eyes flicked from Lewis to Clint and back, and in the depths of his brown eyes, Clint saw recognition. "Who's your friend?"

"You two already know each other bein' as you tried to _kill_ his a** a few years back."

For a big man, Billy was fast, but not fast enough. He dove into the garage, rolled and came up with a shotgun aimed at Lewis and Clint. It was lowered when he saw that he'd been surrounded by heavily armed agents all holding semi-automatic weapons pointed in his direction. Spreading his hands wide, he placed the shotgun on the ground and stepped away from it. "Pity I didn't succeed. Who are you?"

Clint holstered his Glock, producing handcuffs as he neared the former Consortium interrogator. "My name is Agent Clint Barton of SHIELD, and you are under arrest for illegal possession of firearms, possession of stolen property, money laundering, engaging in domestic terrorist activities, treason, attempted murder…"

~~O~~

Clint thanked Lewis for her assistance after locking William "Billy" Kellerman AKA George in her jail for later pick-up. He issued orders that Kellerman was to have no visitors except for Lewis and no phone calls.

The group returned to the quinjet and Clint took off, Rosenbloom filling the co-pilot's seat. Talk in the rear compartment was lively, and Clint was pleased to hear the agents treating Naomi with respect by including her in their conversations. Putting the ship on autopilot, Clint started to get up when Naomi handed him a bottle of water and ibuprofen knowing that he was hurting. He flashed a warm smile, the kind he reserved only for her, and received one in return. They hadn't said one word, but had somehow managed to communicate everything in just that brief encounter. He watched her go then faced forward thanking his lucky stars that they'd managed to find each other again.

"Ten minutes, sir."

Rosenbloom's casual statement had an immediate effect on everyone present. All chatter stopped as each member of the team readied themselves and their equipment to take on yet another Consortium operative. Clint figured they'd gotten lucky with Kellerman in that he hadn't put up much of a fight. Which had been too bad because Clint would've liked to have given him just a small taste of what had been done to him so long ago. He wouldn't brood over it though thinking that maybe Tiny would provide the entertainment this group of highly trained agents-and one psychologist-had been hoping for when they signed up for this mission. "Ready, boys and girls?" He received enthusiastic affirmatives from everyone making him grin. "We're playing this just like Trinidad. I've asked the locals to join us so they won't think we're poaching in their backyard. In and out. Piece of cake."

~~O~~

Another round of semi-automatic gunfire sent the SHIELD agents ducking for cover once again. When it stopped, they took turns trying to keep the people inside from getting away while not getting killed.

_So far, so good_, thought Naomi. She was crouched behind the bed of an old pick-up truck that now looked like Swiss cheese, Clint beside her, quietly calm as he negotiated with "Tiny" and whoever else she had barricaded inside with her. Listening in on the comm chatter, she knew there were at least five people inside armed with a variety of semi-automatic weapons. Most of the types meant nothing to her. All she knew was this couldn't go on forever because they'd eventually run out of ammo.

The gunfire stopped and she raised her head just enough to see Clint flip the phone shut with a muttered curse. He wasn't the only one frustrated. Creeping closer, she whispered in his ear. "You call _this_ a piece of cake?!"

"Ah…" He shrugged sheepishly adding a half-smile.

She had yet to fire a single shot because Clint had ordered her to stay down, yet still held her weapon at the ready. "So, Secret Agent Man, what's the plan?"

"Send someone in through an open second floor window. They come down the stairs and take them out."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Wait till they run out of ammo and swarm then place."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "No faith in plan A, huh?"

"Actually, that's plan _C_. Plan _A_ was to walk in and arrest her. The window's plan B."

Naomi snorted. "I'm not military or an agent and even I know plan A _never_ works."

Clint tossed a glace over his shoulder before taking his turn at keeping the people inside busy. They retaliated and he ended up on the ground, bullets whizzing over his head. "That's why we have plans B and C. Time to put B into action."

"Oh, no! You're staying with me!"

Taken aback by the strength of her words, Clint ignored her for the moment while he worked out the logistics. Bullets pinged off the truck, dumpster and the four-door sedan in the parking lot. Clint had sent McNealy, Miller and Peasley to cover the back while Dwight and Veltri took the side door that opened onto the patio. Most of the first floor windows had been shot out, the cotton eyelet curtains fluttering in the fall breeze. Clint pushed her down covering her with his body, which was less painful than when he'd tackled her. But at least his truck hadn't blown up this time. Her voice slightly muffled, she asked, "What's the highest you've ever gotten?"

"I'd have to ask Nat, but I think it's L."

She couldn't help the snort that came out. "Really? Where was that?"

"Budapest." Clint held up a finger silently asking her to wait then popped up, let loose a volley of gunfire then dropped back down next to her, wincing when a bullet whizzed past them and embedded itself in the tire of a small sports car that was already a total loss. Though his expression didn't change, apparently it was the last straw. He tapped his comm. "All units. I need eyes. There should be a tree on the east side that reaches above the second floor. Can anyone confirm?"

Veltri's voice sounded tiny in Naomi's ear. "_Veltri here, sir. Affirmative. Still got most of its leaves, if that helps._"

"Copy that, Veltri. All units stand by."

Not liking the sound of any of it, Naomi grabbed his arm. "Clint, what are you doing?"

He pulled away, speaking as he unzipped his vest and shrugged out of it. "Y'see, there are three kinds of people. Those who learn by reading, a few who learn by observation, and the rest who have to test the electric fence for themselves."

"And you're gonna test the electric fence." The bantering tone in her voice vanished at his emphatic nod. "I can't let you do that."

Shooting a glare at her, she watched him transition from the Clint she loved into Agent Clint Barton. "You don't have a choice. When you came on this mission, it was with the understanding that you would obey orders like the rest of the team."

What could she say? He was right. "Fine. But if you get yourself killed, I'll _never_ speak to you again."

"Not gonna happen." Clint busied himself with securing his weapons, the AR-15 strapped to his back leaving his hands free. After issuing orders to create a distraction, his left hand removed the comm from his ear and shoved it in his pocket. He positioned his feet in preparation for his run, but before he gave the signal, he placed his hand on the back of Naomi's neck and pulled her close for a quick kiss. "Wait for me."

And he was gone just that fast while the other agents laid down cover fire. Naomi glimpsed him disappearing around the corner on the east side of the building, silently whispering, "Always."

~~O~~

When he'd climbed high enough, Clint realized that he was too far to reach the window. Positioning himself as far out on the branch as he could, he gauged the distance, less than five feet, and jumped. Ignoring the pain in his side, he hung from the newly installed clog-free gutter then braced his feet on the window ledge while he opened the window and slipped inside. He recognized the frilly bedclothes and antique furniture from when he'd stayed here on his previous visit to Waverly. It was as annoying now as it had been then, but he hadn't really had a choice.

Making no noise, he crossed to the door, easing it open just a crack. If anyone had been on this floor, they were gone now. Creeping down the hall to the front stairs, he peeked over the rail and could see a man and a woman hiding behind the front desk while another man and woman crouched next to the front windows on either side of the main entrance. If their assumptions were correct, that meant there was only one guarding the side door.

Reversing direction, he took the back stairs down to the kitchen. There at the back door, another man crouched near a broken window taking the occasional potshot at the three agents taking refuge behind the patio furniture. Silently, he took the man out with a well-placed rap on the pack of his head. He disarmed him and zip-tied his hands before making his way slowly across the tile to the door that opened into a hallway leading to both the side door and the lobby. A man a little taller than Clint huddled behind a love seat that had been turned on its back to provide protection.

One careful step at a time, Clint snuck up behind the man. He turned just as Clint reached him, attempting to bring his weapon around, but Clint was faster, quickly disarming the other man then getting him in a sleeper hold. Within seconds, his opponent was out of the game. Clint used a zip-tie to secure his hands behind him.

Clint sidled up to the door and pulled the curtains aside, flashing hand signals to Veltri and Dwight. Veltri responded and very shortly, they were inside the building. A few whispered orders and the three separated to perform their assigned tasks.

At the prearranged time, the agents burst into the lobby. Dwight taking on the man by the window while Veltri handled the woman. Clint had given himself the duty of taking out the other two, and because they were behind the desk, that meant they had little maneuvering room so the advantage when to Clint.

There was a flurry of fighting with the retired consortium operatives who were no match for SHIELD's finest. Soon, they too were tied up and being settled into the back seats of Waverly's police vehicles. Before Clint closed the door on Tiny, he said, "You know, you really should've killed me when you had the chance."

Bessie, the owner and sole proprietor of Bessie's Bed and Breakfast, as Tiny was known to the citizens of Waverly, didn't honor him with a reply. He closed the door and watched the last of the police vehicles drive away with the SHIELD agents following leaving Clint and Naomi behind. "A sweeper team will secure the place as soon as I give the word."

"So give the word."

"Already done." Naomi helped him into his vest then took his hand as they walked to the last of the vehicles SHIELD had borrowed from the Waverly PD. "We're gonna turn this in, rent a car and take a few days."

He put her in the front seat then got behind the wheel. As he pulled onto the road back into town she asked, "We're staying here?"

"Just one night. I've got a little business to take care of, but it won't take long. We can do it on the way to the station."

Settling back in her seat, Naomi watched the scenery without really seeing it. That is until Clint pulled into a cemetery. He parked and she followed him to a set of three headstones. William John Barton, Hannah Elizabeth Barton and Charles Bernard Barton. The first two had the same date of death more than twenty-five years in the past. The third was much more recent, three years ago. She hung back, facing away from the scene, letting him have the privacy as he needed.

Not a talkative man, Clint knelt in front of his mother's grave, one hand on the curved stone, his eyes flicking from one small slab of marble to the other, and suddenly it hit her. This was the first time he'd ever visited the graves. She already knew he'd only found out his brother was dead recently and wondered why he hadn't come sooner for his parents. He'd tell her eventually.

Getting to his feet, Clint her by the hand. "Mom, Dad, Barney, this is Naomi. She's my…girlfriend."

Naomi hadn't thought what would happen when they got here and was startled when he spoke. But she had to say something because he'd just introduced her to his family. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Barton. Nice to meet you. And you too, Barney." What else should she say? Nothing came to mind so she just held tight to Clint's hand and let him lead the way.

He didn't say another word and she hadn't expected him to. Together, they returned to the car and Naomi knew that the chances of him ever coming back were slim at best. She would let him work it all out and suggest repeated visits in the future.

~~O~~

Ever since the cemetery, Naomi had been silent, staring out the window simply nodding as he pointed out the sights of the town where he'd been born. Not that there were many to see, but some of the buildings were designated as historical landmarks and were mildly interesting to most who passed through town. But not to her, apparently. Still, he kept up a running monologue until they reached the county line then he too lapsed into quiet contemplation of the roadway.

Naomi had been on a bit of a high from being on her first real "mission", but that had changed in just a few minutes. He didn't know what had caused her sudden gloominess and wasn't certain what to say or do to change it. But at least they had plenty of time now to deal with the hurts and disappointments that lingered, and the good thing was they'd do it together. Whatever her problem, she'd let him know soon enough.

Clint had rented a car deciding their little get-away would be a road trip. Anything they needed could be bought along the way. When he'd asked Naomi her opinion, she's just shrugged and that was disconcerting. She had opinions about everything and wasn't shy about sharing. But this long period of silence was beginning to worry him. It reminded him of himself after learning she'd been kept in the dark while he'd recuperated from his injuries all those years ago.

As they cruised into Cedar Rapids, he began talking about anything that came to mind trying to re-engage her. He didn't know if it would work, but he had to try.

"Nat and I were on a mission, another cakewalk. Easy-peasy, in and out. Done it hundreds of times. My job was to wait on a rooftop while she lured the target to a hotel room and I'd take him out when she gave the signal. But everything went sideways when the target's wife caught Nat seducing him. The guy takes off, so I follow him, and now he's taking me on a tour of the city.

"We're at a light and I've got him in my sights when he blows the through the intersection. I can't follow because a group of kids are in the crosswalk so I radio Nat who's on the way and let her know. Good news is she'd managed to attach a GPS locator to him and we caught up with him at his residence. It was a fortress! Twelve-foot walls, guards, a gate, huge dogs roaming around at night…" He continued talking until he parked the car in the lot at the hotel realizing that she was still not listening. "And then I broke into his house. I didn't steal anything, but I did rearrange the furniture."

Naomi turned to look at him as if he were nuts. "What did you say?"

Clint gave her a lopsided grin. "So you _are_ still in there. I was beginning to wonder."

She scooted around in the seat seeming to just realize they were no longer moving. "Sorry I'm such bad company."

"Don't be." He touched her hand. "Let's check in and order some room service then you can tell me all about it, if you want to."

"Sure."

Once in their room, Clint ordered sandwiches and tea. After she'd eaten, Naomi seemed a little more like herself, more animated. Clint sat on the love seat pulling her onto his lap, his arms around her waist and hers on his shoulders. "Just before we left, I had a talk with…my father. All these years I thought…did you know he was there for my first ballet recital? He also came to my high school and college graduations. Every major event in my life, he was there. Watching."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"It's just that…if I had known…if he'd even _once_ tried to talk to me in the all this time, sent me a birthday card, anything…" she shrugged, her left hand rubbing up and down his right bicep below the sleeve of his shirt taking comfort from the sensation of skin touching skin. "He asked me to call him Nick. What am I supposed to say to him now? Do I tell Mother I've seen him? I wanted to stay angry with him, but now he's made it impossible. I'm not ready for us to have a father/daughter relationship, but everything I've thought and felt for all these years seems…ridiculous now."

Turning his head just a few inches, he kissed her cheek. "If that's how you felt, who's to say it was ridiculous? That your feelings aren't just as valid as someone else's?"

She leaned back to look into his face, one side of her mouth lifting in a small smile. "You make an effective argument, Agent Barton. But I thought _I_ was the psychologist."

"Let's just forget about everything and everyone for a while. We could both use a distraction."

"Oh?"

From her expression and smirk, he knew what she had in mind. But that would come later. For now, they needed a different kind of distraction. He stood, putting her on her feet and weaving their hands together. "But first, we need clothes. There's a Walmart down the street. We'll stop on the way."

"On the way where?"

He winked and grinned. "It's a surprise."

~~O~~

Night had fallen and the temperature had dropped, the wind making it feel much cooler. At the store, Naomi and Clint purchased jeans, long sleeved T-shirts, jackets, ball caps, underclothes, socks and personal items.

As they neared their destination, Clint's expression and attitude changed. The delight on his face grew and his breathing increased the closer they got to the bright lights and music of the circus just outside of the city limits. The sheer number of people that had come from across the state line was staggering.

Clint held her hand so tight it was close to painful, so she pulled free and tucked her fingers around his arm just below his bicep. He glanced down at her with a smile. "This is Carson's. The first circus that Barney and I ever joined. I wonder if the old man is still around."

"Let's find out."

Once inside, he led the way through the crush of people on the midway, scrutinizing the faces of the people manning the games looking for familiar faces. He slowed down a few times peering closer at a few faces, but didn't stop. When they reached the food court, he led her between the corn dog and the falafel stands, his excitement growing with every step.

He stopped to get his bearings then they were off again. "Here it is."

In front of them was an ancient RV painted bright red and gold with the words "Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders" splashed across the side with renderings of animals, clowns and acrobats gallivanting from one end to the other.

Naomi waited, but he seemed reluctant to knock, so she took the initiative. The door opened and a woman with jet black hair and not much older than Clint dressed in white shirt and black pants and holding black top hat peered at them. "Yeah?"

"We're looking for Mr. Carson. Is he around?"

"Mr. Carson's dead. I'm his daughter. What can I do…" Then she looked closer at Clint, her eyes going wide as she came down the steps showing herself to be the same height as Naomi. "Hawkeye?"

He smiled fondly at her, his blue-gray eyes sparkling. "It's good to see you again, Marty." The carny's response was not what Naomi expected. Clint either, to go by his expression. Marty looked Clint over then her right hand came up to slap him on the cheek.

"What was _that_ for?"

Now Marty's arms were crossed and she was tapping the heel of her right foot. "Detroit."

Clint thought for a moment, nodding. "Oh. Right."

She gave him another once-over then opened the RV's door. "Come inside. The show's starting soon and I gotta finish getting dressed." They followed her in taking seats at the small dining area while Marty walked to the back, returning with a long back and red jacket. "You were like a son to Dad, and it broke heart when you left."

"I just couldn't stay after…" Clint looked down at his feet, rubbing his hands together.

"I understand." Marty slipped on a pair of small gold hoops then leaned against the counter and Naomi could see the wheels spinning the other woman's head. It was the same look Clint got when he was getting one of his crazy ideas. "Wanna make up for Detroit?"

"How?" Clint's voice was laced with suspicion and Naomi didn't blame him. Marty had a predacious glint in her green eyes as she laid out her idea. Clint balked at first, but in the end, he agreed…

…And that's how Naomi found herself dressed like a Las Vegas showgirl watching Clint dig through trunks of costumes trying to find something appropriate for what Marty had in mind. Finally, he found a pair of black pants and a sparkly white long sleeved shirt. Naomi pulled out a long red scarf which she tied around his waist as a belt. She was straightening his collar when Marty came in carrying a case that looked old yet lovingly cared for.

"Here you go. It was Buck's. He left it behind when…"

Clint interrupted her by opening the case and carefully lifting out an old wooden flatbow. He ran his fingers reverently over the wood and along the string. Taking out one of the arrows, he nocked it, raised it into position and pulled back to the anchor position, but didn't release. Clearing his throat, he set the arrow and bow back into the case. "That works."

~~O~~

Uncharacteristically nervous, Clint paced in the tent where he and Naomi waited for the signal. "I can't believe I let her talk me into this."

Naomi snagged his hand as he passed pulling him into her arms. "The question is how did she talk _me_ into_ this?_" She gestured at her skimpy red, white and gold outfit with a very short skirt that flounced as she walked. He rather liked the headdress with all the feathers and sparkly things.

"The Amazing Hawkeye needs a beautiful assistant."

Her hands gripped his upper arms as she looked up into his eyes. "You're not gonna throw knives at me, are you?"

"Of course not." He tugged on his cuffs and ran a hand through his hair, a smirk turning up the corners of his lips. "Just arrows."

While Naomi was sputtering incoherently, one of the roustabouts stuck his head in. "Forty minutes, Hawkeye."

Clint nodded and took a deep breath, grinning ruefully. "Almost show time." He slipped the quiver over his head so that the strap crossed his chest from left to right and picked up the bow.

As they neared the big top, the band began to play the opening strains of _Entrance of the Gladiators_ as Marty strode confidently out to the center of the big top. "Ladies and gentlemen! Children of all ages! Welcome to Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders!"

Watching from the wings, Naomi and Clint laughed at the antics of the clowns, gasped at the feats of the acrobats and held their breath when the lion tamer stuck his head into the mouth of a Bengal tiger. Then it was their turn.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a special treat. Appearing for the first time in more than twenty years right here on the center stage, we have the World's Greatest Marksman and hero of the alien invasion in New York City, the Amazing Hawkeye!"

Marty waved grandly as Clint took Naomi's hand and they both grinned broadly as they walked out into the spotlight while roustabouts quickly set up several targets. Clint bowed and Naomi curtsied.

Over the next twenty minutes, Clint performed some of his most popular tricks to ohs and ahs from the audience. He had to admit that sometimes he did miss performing, and because this would be his public last performance, he thought he'd go out with a bang. Motioning Naomi to him, he had a quick whispered conversation with her. At first, she was adamant that she would not participate, but he persisted, even resorting to flashing that smile he knew she couldn't resist. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do. Just one question: What's my father going to say about one of his agents making a public spectacle of himself?"

"What was New York? A quiet dinner for two? He'll get over it." Finally, Naomi agreed, and Clint positioned her in front of the large center target, arms out to the side. He started away then returned. "Almost forgot this…" After taking a huge bite, he placed a bright red McIntosh apple on her head then returned to the firing line.

Marty strolled over and tied a blindfold around his eyes. She pressed the bow into his hands and faced the crowd again, gesturing for quiet. Her voice stern, she solemnly stated, "During this next trick, we ask that you do not speak…Do not move…Do not even…breathe." She drew out the last word letting it trail off as she faded into the shadows.

Dutifully, the crowd became utterly silent as Clint drew the string back to its anchor point. He breathed in…let it out…inhaled one more time and released.

**TBC**

**A/N: **"Entrance of the Gladiators" or "Entry of the Gladiators" is a military march composed in 1897 by the Czech composer Julius Fučík.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 18**

Standing in the wings, Marty watched Clint perfectly execute his final trick: shooting an apple off of Naomi's head while blindfolded. He'd taken a bite out of it and the arrow had pierced the exact center spraying bits all over the dirt floor. Grinning, the couple ran past her to thunderous applause, cheers and whistles. More than a few video cameras had been going so this moment would last forever. She made a note to check YouTube when she retired for the night.

Throwing her arms around Clint, Marty chuckled. "That was _fan_-tastic!"

"So we're even for Detroit?"

"Definitely." The mistress of ceremonies hugged Naomi too. "It was so awesome you letting him do that trick considering he'd never done it before."

Naomi's smile froze in place as she gripped Marty's upper arms so tight they hurt. "WHAT did you _say?!_"

A little confused, Marty repeated her earlier statement. "Clint's never done that trick before. Couldn't get anyone to let him practice. Not even Barney."

When Naomi didn't release Marty, Clint asked, "Are you okay?"

Finally, Naomi's hands let go and she started shaking. She turned toward the tent they'd used to change swaying on her feet.

~~O~~

Rushing forward, Clint scooped Naomi into his arms before she could fall. She never really fainted, but she did swoon. He carried her to Marty's RV, laid her on the bed and placed a pillow under her legs. Marty brought a cool wet cloth for her head. Clint sat on the side of the bed and held her hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah. How the _hell_ could you ask me to do a trick you've never done before?"

"Didn't say I've never done it. No one would let me _practice_. There's a difference."

Marty brought a small glass of juice, helped Naomi sit up and waited while she drank it down. "And there's a trick to it." She gestured to the blindfold Clint still wore around his neck. He took it off and handed it to Naomi. "Put it on."

With a shrug, Naomi did as requested and found that she could easily see Clint, Marty and the furniture in the room. "You could have _told_ me!"

"Now what would've been the fun in that?" He winked at her that smirk back again. Standing, he helped Naomi to her feet, gratified that she'd regained her balance. "I'm gonna pay for that later, aren't I?"

"Hmph! Yeah!"

Marty escorted them to the door giving Clint another hug. "We're in town until Monday. Sure I can't tempt you into doing it again? Not even once?"

Clint shook his head. "I'm done with the circus, Marty." His arm wrapped around Naomi holding her close, her arms encircling his waist. "I've got everything I want and need right here."

Marty nodded understanding. "Had to ask. Good luck. And don't be strangers."

"We won't. Take care of yourself."

Arms around each other's waists, Clint and Naomi returned to the tent they'd changed in to get out of their costumes. A few minutes later, Clint pulled the ball cap low over his face and kept his eyes on the ground as they moved through the crowd holding tight to her hand. Naomi thought it odd. "You're acting like a celebrity hiding from the paparazzi. Why?"

"When I did this before, after each show, I would be approached by fans, and I'd rather not deal with them tonight."

Naomi nudged him with her elbow. "Tell me you didn't have fun and I won't mention it again."

Dropping her hand, he hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her close for a quick kiss on the temple. "Okay. You got me there. And as distractions go, this was a pretty good one. But I just want to get back to the hotel and take a long hot shower. I've been away so long the sawdust is making me itch."

"Poor baby. How're your ribs? Need me to wash your back again?"

With an affectionate smile, he put his mouth close to her ear. "They're good. And only if I get to wash yours."

"Mmm. You got a deal, Hawkeye."

~~O~~

In Memphis, Tennessee, Clint turned in the fuel efficient hybrid and took out a shiny black pick-up for the remainder of the road trip he and Naomi had been on for more than a week. When they stopped at a gas station as they entered DC, Clint called a number he'd memorized while he and Alston had been taking out the Consortium operatives that hunted them. He was given an address, and within fifteen minutes he pulled up in front of a two-story brick home.

A three-year old forest green Chevy Tahoe and a nearly new white Prius were parked in front of the two-car garage. Kids toys lay in the yard, abandoned for the moment. The yard itself needed some work, and Clint guessed that Alston hadn't been able to take care of it due to his injury.

Clint and Naomi got followed the sound of children's laughter mixed with the deeper tones of an adult male and the smell of beef cooking over a gas grill. They entered through the gate of the picket fence and went around the side of the house to the back yard.

Alston was standing at a gas grill leaning on a cane with one hand and flipping burgers with the other. It was a little cool for a barbeque, but the FBI agent had sworn he'd have one as soon as he got home from the hospital. It was their good fortune that he'd waited a few days so they could enjoy what would be the last one of the season.

Naomi called out, "Trevor?"

"Hey! You made it!" He set the spatula on the small table next to the grill and turned to greet them. He hugged Naomi and kissed her cheek, then exchanged handshakes with Clint just as a woman came out through the sliding patio door carrying an empty plate. "Honey, this is my good friend Clint Barton and his girlfriend, Naomi DeLuca. My wife, Sarah."

"Nice to meet both of you." Sarah had a sweet voice and a disarming smile. Her dark blond hair hung to just below her shoulders turning up on the ends. Though she wasn't classically beautiful, she was attractive and Clint could see from the look in their eyes that they loved each other deeply.

The adults shook hands as the kids pushed their way between to make sure they weren't forgotten. The girl hid behind her mother's legs peeking out the side with wide hazel eyes. "This is Breena. She's seven."

Alston whistled, and the rambunctious boy ran to his side. Leaning over, he said to the boy, "Remember what we talked about?"

"Uh-huh. Should I do it now, Daddy?"

"Yes."

The child, maybe four, walked boldly up to Clint and stuck out his hand. "Hi. My name is Clinton Isaac Alston. My mommy and daddy named me after you 'cause you're Daddy's bestest friend. And my grandpa Isaac 'cause he's my grandpa."

Shocked, Clint managed to cover it well, putting on a smile that felt incongruous. "Very happy to meet you, Clint. This is Naomi." The younger Clint shook Naomi's hand as well.

The kids were sent to play and Clint watched the boy go with mixed emotions. Turning back to Alston, Clint didn't know what to say, and Sarah grinned at his attempt to pull off a blasé attitude. "Naomi, would you help me set the table and let the guys talk for a while?" Clint and Naomi exchanged glances, communicating without words. It annoyed him that she seemed to find the situation very amusing.

"Of course." Naomi looked over shoulder, giving Clint an encouraging smile before closing the door.

"You named your _son_ after me? Why?" Clint's tone was almost accusing, as if Alston should've consulted him first.

Alston picked up the spatula and flipped the burgers as he talked. "Remember the day you wiped the floor with my a**?"

"Yeah. But what has that…"

Shrugging, Alston dropped into the chair Sarah had placed behind him, still favoring his injured leg. "I sort of had an epiphany that day. I saw my life as other did and didn't care for the picture it presented. So, after long nights of thinking and weighing my options, I realized that I didn't want to be a washed up pro football player at the age of thirty-two. My life needed some direction and purpose aside from entertaining sports fans. So I went to the counselor's office and change my major to criminal justice. I graduated third in my class at the police academy. Worked as a beat cop until I joined the FBI." He spread his arms out to the side. "And here I am."

"I'm honored, Alston. Really. But I'm just a guy who serves his country, tries to do the right thing, and is only partly successful."

"You really have no idea of the impact you had on the lives you touched in just those few months, do you?"

The back door opened and Sarah came out with cups of hot coffee for the men. "Everything's ready as soon as the burgers are, Trev."

Nodding, Alston held his wife's hand briefly before she went back into the house. He poked the corner of the spatula into the center of one of the burgers, nodding as if satisfied with what he saw. When he made to stand, Clint took over at the grill. "What did you mean? What you said before."

Not arguing, Alston relaxed, one hand rubbing the thigh of his injured leg. "You don't recognize Sarah?"

Thinking hard, Clint had to admit that she did seem familiar. "Should I?"

Chuckling, Alston accepted Clint's assistance to stand then the archer finished scooping the burgers onto the plate. "Clint, Breena! Go wash up for dinner!"

"Yay!" the boy and girl chorused. Their running footsteps pounded on the concrete patio followed by the slamming of the back door.

Holding the plate in one hand, Clint kept the other close to Alston just in case he should lose his balance as they headed inside. "You were saying?"

"Sarah used to work in the psychology department as a part time receptionist. A few months after you disappeared, she and I started dating and we were married two weeks after I graduated from the police academy."

Reaching around Alston, Clint held the door for his friend then followed him in, softly muttering, "Well, I'll be damned."

Dinner was a lively affair reminding Clint that he hadn't been back to the community center and missed the kids he saw there every day. Sarah spent much of the time circling the table taking pictures with a bright pink digital camera. Young Clint insisted on sitting next to him, asking question after question about what it was like to fight aliens. Clint answered as best he could without revealing the classified aspects, and that seem to satisfy both young Clint and Breena who'd asked her share of questions as well.

Eventually, Breena and young Clint tired and were put to bed. Sarah came to stand at the bottom of the stairs a few minutes later. "Clint, your namesake would like you to tuck him in. Do you mind?" He nodded and followed her up the stairs. "Ever since the invasion, he hasn't stopped bragging that he's named after _the_ Hawkeye. The way he tells it, you singlehandedly stopped the entire invasion yourself."

On the second floor, they stopped in front of a door that had a wooden name plate affixed to it along with dozens of photos of the invasion with Clint, in his Hawkeye persona, circled in red. "He has all the Avengers action figures and even insists that his friends call him Hawkeye. He even dressed up as you for Halloween." She must have sensed that he was uncomfortable, at a loss for words, because she continued to talk, her voice low so it wouldn't carry. "I know you don't remember me but…"

"I _do_ remember you."

"You don't have to lie to spare my feelings, Clint. But you should know that what you said to me that day, it really changed my life. And just as you instructed, I've never told anyone. Not even Trevor."

Clint grinned. "You _do_ know I was joking, right?"

"Yeah. But it's kinda fun sharing a secret with Hawkeye." She knocked on the door then pushed it open. "Go on in. Leave the night light on and the door ajar when you come out."

Nodding, Clint took deep breath and pushed the door open. "Hey, pal. You wanted to see me?"

The boy, dark blond like his mother with his father's blue eyes, nodded and scooted to one side so Clint could sit on the edge and spent the next twenty minutes talking with the boy about whatever came to his agile mind.

~~O~~

In their hotel room later that night, Naomi awoke nestled in Clint's embrace, her head pillowed on his shoulder. The first week of November had breezed in bringing cooler weather to the New England area that threatened to turn ugly. She shivered and snuggled closer to Clint's physical warmth.

His arm tightened around her waist, his lips brushing over her forehead. "What're you doing awake?"

"Mmm. Thinking."

"What about?"

She searched under the covers until she found his free hand, weaving their fingers together. "About how lucky I am to have you back in my life. It's like I'd been sleepwalking for the last twelve years and finally woke up."

He rubbed his cheek over the top of her head. "Now you know how I felt all those months while recuperating. I had to relearn things most people else take for granted. Simple everyday things like feeding myself and being able to turn the pages of a book. But the worst part was feeling that there was someplace I had to be, someone I should be talking to and not knowing who it was."

Clint had never spoken of that time in quite this way, and Naomi held her breath for fear of disturbing his train of thought. But she needn't have worried. Now that he'd started talking, he seemed to be picking up speed.

"I kept having dreams about a woman whose face I couldn't see. Sometimes they were…erotic, but mostly they were about the two of us doing mundane things like cooking, washing the dishes, reading or even going to the grocery store. I described her to Coulson on several occasions, but he never told me he knew who she was. And when I did remember, I tried to call her-to call _you_, but didn't know what to say." He shifted position slightly. "I was still learning to walk again and the docs wouldn't let me leave the helicarrier even with a nurse. Later, I found out it was Fury's orders that I be kept on board."

The anger at her father she'd almost let go of came back. Clint must've felt it because he rushed to reassure her. "I'm over it and you need to let it go too. It's not like we can change the past. And we're together now."

Silently, she nodded, waiting to see what he'd say next.

"Almost six months to the day after I'd been brought back, the doctors released me to come and go as I pleased. I still had physical, occupational and speech therapy several times a week, but I was pretty much left to my own devices. And the first thing I did was go to your apartment. I ran into Serene and she told me you'd moved to Chicago. For months after that, I didn't care much about anything but getting back into shape so I could return to work. Because of the amnesia, they partnered me with Natasha. We worked so well as a team that we just kept doing it. Mostly I was her back-up, the contingency in case things went sideways, and sometimes it was the other way around.

"Personally, my life was a mess and it took Natasha kicking my a** to make me see that I needed to make changes."

He lapsed into silence and didn't say anymore. "I'm glad you're here now."

"Me too." The fingers on her waist flexed and curled then moved up to play with her hair. "I've been meaning to ask. When you divorced, why didn't you change your name back to DeLuca?"

"Too much trouble." Smiling, she tilted her head back to look at him, but his eyes were closed. "Though lately I've been thinking about changing it."

That got his attention, and she guessed he would've preferred if she hadn't kept her ex-husband's name. "Please tell me you're not changing it to Fury."

Her smile grew and her heart began racing so fast he had to be able to feel it. She'd planned on saying this at a more romantic moment, but now seemed the perfect time. "No. I was thinking of changing it to Barton."

~~O~~

The fingers in Naomi's hair halted their lazy movements and Clint forgot to breathe. Something he did around Naomi quite often it seemed. A slow grin came over his face. He was so dazed at her proposal that the bubble around him burst when she lifted up onto her elbow and looked into his eyes. The expression there made him feel jubilant because she wanted him to be her husband. "Really? You…you're sure?"

A look of complete and utter joy flowed over her beautiful features. "I was sure twelve years ago." Still staggered by this sudden turn in their relationship, all he could do was smile. "You know, when a woman asks you to marry her, she expects an answer."

Clint rolled her onto her back so fast she squealed. "Yes, I will marry you." Lowering his head, he kissed her until they were both breathless, pulling away just far enough to say, "I love you." Her lips were still close enough to kiss and he did, lingering in a sweet almost chaste touching of their mouths.

"I love you too."

Grinning, he asked, "What do you love about me?"

Naomi looked up at the ceiling in thought. "You're smart, funny, you can assassinate someone without leaving evidence, and you'd make a great killing partner in the zombie apocalypse." A laugh was forced out of him that he tried to cover with a cough. "What?"

"The zombie apocalypse…that happened a long time ago."

She slapped his shoulder. "Did not."

"Remember the tsunami in the Sea of Okhotsk about three years ago?"

The half-grin faded. "Yeah. That was so sad. The entire population of the coastal towns and surrounding villages were washed out to sea."

Clint rubbed the back of his head. "Ye-ah…not what happened." Naomi gapped at his now serious expression, speechless. "The earthquake that caused the tsunami was man-made."

Clearing her throat, she raised up on one elbow to look into his eyes. "Really?! Wow! You guys are GOOD! I totally bought it!"

"You were supposed to."

"So what else? What other…" Naomi made air quotes, "…natural disasters were cover-ups?"

Thinking for a moment, Clint chose one. "We used the eruptions of Eyjafjallajökull…"

"I'm already impressed, but even more so that you can even _pronounce_, uh…"

"Eyjafjallajökull." She rested her head on his shoulder again and waited for him to continue. "We used the eruptions to cover up…"

~~O~~

It was another two days before Clint and Naomi arrived back in New York. She sensed that he was becoming restless with nothing to do but entertain her. And though she could've spent another week with him, she realized that she had to share him with the rest of the world.

They returned to Stark Tower tired from driving all day, but at least they were home. It was after midnight and everyone was asleep so they quietly made their way up to Clint's apartment, showered and climbed into bed. As always, the kiss they shared sent shockwaves of heat throughout their bodies, but before things could get out of hand, Clint rolled over and opened the bedside table, taking out a small black box.

"What's that?" Naomi peered at it curiously.

"Open it." His tone was an audible smirk.

Naomi opened the box and gasped. Nestled inside was a platinum ring. Ribbons of the precious metal were encrusted with small diamonds, and surrounded one large diamond in the center. "Oh Clint! It's beautiful!"

He plucked it out holding it so the dim lighting reflected from its many facets. "It reminds me of us. The two loops are our separate lives that come back to one life together in the middle."

"Very poetic. But we've been together every day for that past two weeks. When did you…"

"Three days after Thanksgiving." Clint grinned at her confusion.

"But Thanksgiving is still three weeks away."

He slipped the ring on her left hand then kissed the backs of her fingers. "Three days after Thanksgiving _twelve years_ ago."

She couldn't help the tears that welled up in her eyes making them shimmer. Rolling over on top of him, she kissed him soundly.

The next day, after returning from the community center and reassuring the kids they'd be back very soon and yes, they would be invited to the wedding they decided it was time to give their friends the news. While Clint took a shower, Naomi roamed around and eventually found herself in the common area. Going to the bar, she took a bottle of root beer from the 'fridge, popped the top and took a long drink. She burped and looked around guiltily, blushing when Stark's voice came from the far side of the room, the inky blackness hiding his approach. "_That_ was impressive. You do impersonations too?"

"Thought I was alone." Stark came to stand next to her, one hand leaning on the counter as he sipped from the glass in his hand. He didn't look at her, just kept watching the rain pattering against the windows, deep in thought. Probably about one of his projects, she figured. He'd once tried to explain the propulsion system of the suit to her and how it worked with the inertial dampeners to keep him from being injured in flight. It had all gone over her head so she'd just nodded as if she understood.

Impulsively, she kissed Stark on the cheek. He finished off his drink and turned to look at her. "Not that I didn't enjoy it, but what was that for?"

"For keeping quiet about the other day. That was very sweet of you."

The billionaire actually seemed to be blushing in the dim lighting coming from behind the bar. "Yeah, well, don't let it get around. It'll ruin my street cred."

Naomi half-grinned at him. "Your billionaire genius philanthropist rep is solid, Tony."

"You _think_ that's true then one day, a megalomaniac from the other end of space comes to town challenging you to a duel, totally unimpressed with your mad flying, shooting and destroying skills."

"And the Avengers sent him packing with his tail between his legs. You're _heroes_, Tony, whether you like it or not."

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shrugged indifferently. "It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it." He watched her walk around to perch on one of the barstools. "What's Legolas up to? Why aren't the two of you playing slap and tickle?"

Naomi choked on a mouthful of root beer in embarrassed indignation, unable to form words. And as always, she was saved by Clint.

"What's it to _you_, Stark?"

Stark raised his voice startling Naomi. "Lights, JARVIS." Immediately, the room brightened just as Steve and Natasha came up the stairs leading from their apartments. Stark peered into Clint's face grinning at what he saw there. "_You_ got laid last night."

Across the room, Steve came to a halt in the middle of the floor, a scowl on his boyish features. "Stark!" His face darkening in anger at the perceived insult, Steve started forward to take the billionaire on, but Natasha held him back. Reluctantly, he agreed as she went behind the bar and started cutting up limes. "Must you be so crude?"

"What you see is what you get, Capsicle. And all I needed to see was that swagger and grin to know what Legolas was up to. Which reminds me…the two of you…" Stark indicated Natasha and the super-soldier, "…have been circling the airfield so long it's a wonder you haven't run out of fuel. Now if you want MY advice, you'll find a place to land and get on with the business of, well, funny business. Speaking of which, if we're going to have all of us in one tower, we need to figure a way to let everyone know not to interrupt us if we're otherwise occupied. Now I've got some ideas I'd like to run by you…"

Stark cut off when a knife whizzed through the air to stick into the wall next to his head. Eyes wide, he followed its flight path back to where Natasha gave him a impertinent smile as she bit into a maraschino cherry.

The CEO of Stark Industries strode into the room, the smile on her face giving way to a scowl when she looked at the faces around her. "What did Tony do now?" Exchanging glances with his teammates, Clint shrugged. Stark withered slightly from the penetrating stare aimed in his direction by his girlfriend. "That means he's being an a** again."

~~O~~

Clint took his place next to Naomi. "Where're Banner and Thor?"

"I am here." The Asgardian's presence filled the room as did his booming voice.

Banner came in just behind him. "Everyone present and accounted for, Barton."

Thor crossed his arms. "What is it you require?"

"Your attention…and a bottle of champagne, if you've got it, Stark."

Stark scoffed as he took a bottle of Cristal from the cooler while Pepper set glasses on the bar. The cork was popped and the sparkling liquid poured. Banner helped pass the glasses around then the group turned to Clint expectantly.

Clint waited until each member of his surrogate family had a glass in hand before speaking. "We want all of you to be the first to know."

Standing at his side, Naomi held out her left hand. "I asked Clint to marry me and he said yes."

Naturally, Stark was the first to speak. "Congratulations. And I, for one, think its _way_ past time." To Naomi, he said, "Do you have any _idea_ how long he's been mooning over you?"

Naomi flashed Clint a loving smile that he returned. "About a long as I've been mooning over him."

"We should have a _real_ celebration. Shawarma anyone?" The group sent out a collective groan. "Or…we could go French. I know this place on the Champs-Elysees that serves _duck à la poivrade d'artichaut _that is to _die_ for."

Natasha and Clint nodded, Natasha speaking, "La Ami Genereux."

Clint grinned. "Great food."

Meeting each of his teammate's eyes, he took a silent vote. "Then we're in agreement." He checked the time. "Let's meet back here in two hours, dressed to kill. We'll fly to Paris and party 'til the cows call the _gendarmerie_."

Thor looked thoroughly confused. "Dressed to…"

Pepper took the big man by the arm. "We'll go see Henri. He can get you into a tux within the hour."

"Great! It's settled."

Thor laid a hand over Pepper's. "As much as I would like to share this happy time with my friends, Jane is expecting me." He gave Naomi a gentle hug and shook Clint's hand. "Blessings to both of you."

"Thanks, Thor." The Asgardian went out onto the balcony, swung his hammer and was off.

Naomi looked sheepish. "Pepper, I know women say this all the time, but I don't have anything to wear." She gestured at her jeans and T-shirt. "Literally."

Pepper took her hand, leading her through the penthouse and into a huge walk-in closet lined with all manner of clothing and all the accessories. "I'm sure there's something in my closet to fit you. Pick out whatever you want. Anything at all."

"Thanks, Pepper."

The rest of the group scattered to their separate rooms to get dressed for their impromptu celebration dinner, Naomi joining Clint in their room a few minutes later.

~~O~~

Thanks to Stark, Steve was decked out in a classic tux with a white pleated shirt and a black bow tie. When he returned to the common area, Clint and Banner were there dressed in a similar fashion. They were joined by Stark, again in a classic tux, yet on each man, it looked subtly different. At least Steve hoped it would to the women. He went to the balcony doors and watched the city lights glowing, never tiring of the sight. Banner nudged him in the back and Steve turned in time to see Natasha reach the top of the stairs.

One hand carried a small black bag while the other held the skirt of her dress so she wouldn't trip. What looked like a black slip with a long sheer covering caressed her body from just below the collarbone to the floor. Brilliant white jewels in several sizes were scattered across the overdress in a random pattern stopping at the bottom of her shapely calves. The shoulder straps were wide and sheer as well with a few smaller stones sprinkled there as well.

A door closed and when Natasha turned her back to him, Steve saw that the dress was secured with an elegant bow and the waist dipped low enough that it showcased the inward sway of her back. Forcing his eyes away from the way her backside shifted beneath the soft material, he looked at her small feet tucked into strappy sandals.

Natasha faced him again, dangling earrings reflecting the light. Her eyes had been outlined in such way that it reminded him of a cat on the prowl. As always, her walk enhanced that feeling. He tugged at his suddenly too tight collar remembering the first time he'd been physically close to her. The first Chitauri leviathan was about to explode and Steve had covered her with his body, using his shield to protect them both. Hawkeye had been out in the open too, but Steve's chivalrous streak had led him to protect the only woman in the group. She reached his side and turned with the rest when Pepper entered from the opposite side.

~~O~~

As long as they'd worked and lived together, Tony had known that Pepper was beautiful inside and out. But tonight, she took his breath away. She too was dressed in black, but there the resemblance to Natasha's dress ended.

Pepper's dress had a grace and fluidity to it that drew the eye first one way then another. The material was gathered at her left side, fanning out to her right. At shoulder height, a strip of the material entwined with more of the same making the dress look strong yet molten at the same time.

Stones adorned the right shoulder, twining in and out as if that one strip were holding everything together. The material flowed down to touch the floor and when he brought his eyes back to her face, the small dangles in her ears winked at him. He slipped an arm around her waist and she smiled back.

Beside him, he felt Clint stiffen and inhale sharply, almost a gasp. Turning to see what the archer was looking at, he shook his head and grinned.

**TBC**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 19**

The moment Naomi reached the top step Clint forgot to breathe until his chest began to ache. He forced his lungs to do their job as she sauntered across the room to stop in front of him.

What had at first looked like a simple black sheath with an intriguing design down the right side had transformed into an alluring gown that promised much without giving it away. The curly-cue design had a peek-a-boo insert that started at her waist and ended at her feet. The stones had been strategically placed to tease the eye with what might be hidden underneath. Was she or wasn't she wearing anything beneath the silky layers? Not that it mattered because he'd find out eventually.

The enormous gold hoops that hung from her earlobes matched the gold in the swirly design. The strappy heels on her feet brought the top of her head even with his so that they could now look directly into each other's eyes. And they did, totally ignoring the fact that they weren't alone. In fact, they'd stood like that for so long that Stark stuck his face between them to get their attention.

"If you two are done undressing each other with your eyes, which is very creepy by the way, it's time to go."

The group rode the elevator up to the helipad to find a quinjet already waiting. Inside, Kripke sat in the pilot's seat while Hill acted as co-pilot. They found seats and that's when Clint realized that Banner was the only one not paired up. Clint excused himself, moving as far from everyone as he could, and pulled out his phone. He spoke briefly then returned to his seat next to Naomi.

The SHIELD aircraft wasn't as romantic as a Lear or a Gulfstream, but it was faster, and before they knew it, they'd been given clearance to land at Charles de Gaulle Airport. They were met by a long black limo and driven straight to the restaurant where a private room had been prepared for their use. What surprised everyone but Clint was the woman awaiting their arrival. She got her feet, flashing them a brilliant smile and holding out both hands.

"_Bonsoir_, Clint." The archer took her hands in his and greeted her with the traditional kiss on each cheek.

"_Bonsoir, chère_." Natasha came forward to greet the woman in the same manner, with a delighted smile. The three of them spoke for a few moments in French. Clint introduced the woman to Naomi then turned her to face the rest of the group standing just inside the door. "Everyone, this is Natasha's and my good friend, Genevieve Pascale. Genevieve, please meet Tony Stark, Pepper Potts and Steve Rogers." They shook hands all around, with Banner showing mild irritation at his exclusion. But he needn't have been concerned because Clint drew Genevieve to him with a smile. "And this is Dr. Bruce Banner."

Still puzzled, Bruce smiled and shook Genevieve's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Genevieve." Though Banner seemed naive at times, he wasn't, and had figured out Clint's scheme.

"And I you, Dr. Banner." Her voice was soft and sensual, with an attractive accent. "I'm sure that we will have a wonderful time tonight." Her wavy blond hair reached just below her shoulders which were bare as was the front down to the upper curves of her breasts. The narrow sleeves of her gown hung off of her shoulders as if by accident, but the look in her sultry green eyes said otherwise. The gown was made of soft and very silky black chiffon that made her fair skin glow with a golden tone. The material flowed over her curves, and sprinkled cross the front were stones in gold and black.

Again Banner slanted a look at Clint, the archer smirking back. "She's your _date_, Bruce."

"But I…"

"You're the only one without a companion, and Genevieve was kind enough to join us so you wouldn't have to be on your own tonight." Lowering his voice, he lean close so only Banner could hear. "It's just dinner and dancing, doc. She's not a courtesan. Just a good friend. A _single_ friend," Clint added a wink.

Giving in gracefully, Banner extended his elbow. "In that case, I would be delighted, Genevieve." She wrapped her slender fingers around his arm, giving him a smile filled with straight white teeth.

Once everyone was seated, the sommelier entered, spoke briefly with Stark and quickly departed, returning in just a few moments with bottles of **Krug Clos d'Ambonnay 1995** and several servers to assist with the pouring.

The meal itself was perfection and while the friends were awaiting dessert, Clint did as he'd wanted to do from the moment he'd seen his fiancée in that dress. He took Naomi by the hand and led her onto the dance floor. Holding her close, he let his hand roam up and down her back while she rested her head against the aside of his neck.

At the sound of laughter nearby, Naomi looked around and Clint nodded to where Banner and Genevieve were dancing and talking. Genevieve said something, and to Clint's surprise, Banner threw his head back and laughed out loud. Not that laughing was an inappropriate response. But it was the first time since Clint had met Banner that he'd seen him amused enough by something to do more than chuckle politely.

Maybe there was hope for the guy after all.

~~O~~

After changing into casual clothes, Hill and Kripke strolled along the Champs-Élysées, still not quite used to being more than just friends and co-workers. When Kripke-_Ryan_, she corrected herself-when Ryan approached her in the Mess Hall the other day saying that corny line with such sincerity, at first she hadn't known how to respond, expecting him to burst out laughing at his twisted idea of a joke. But he hadn't been joking, and from that day on they'd been spending much of their off duty time together.

This dating thing was still so new that they were taking it one day at a time, working hard to get over the awkward and sometimes stilted conversation. Kripke was adamant that they not talk about work when they were on a date, and that had made for some uncomfortable silences. That is until he'd asked her about her family, and he'd told her about his. He had two older sisters who were married and childless and one younger sister in college. She had a brother in the military stationed in Japan and a sister who was a cop in their home town of Vancouver. In both of their families, they were the only ones not married or seeing someone, and often felt out of place at family gatherings. It had been the first common ground they'd discovered that hadn't involved work.

The crowds made it difficult to stay together so Hill slipped her hand into his. Shocked at first, he gave her a smile and just kept walking. "Hungry yet?" Kripke's voice was smooth and unaccented, owing no doubt to growing up in Pasadena, California.

"Yeah." He pointed to a small café with tables outside and a jazz quartet playing lively tunes. Though there was a small open area, no one was dancing, and Hill wasn't sure if she wanted him to ask her or not. Instead of worrying over what the night might bring for them in their personal relationship, she resolved to just enjoy herself.

Instead of wine, they had iced tea with their dinner. Stark hadn't been forthcoming with an itinerary so they had to be ready to fly at a moment's notice. For dessert, Kripke ordered a dish of ice cream, but Hill declined and they drifted into a companionable silence. She bobbed her head in time to the music then the song ended and the quartette took a break.

Holding up his bowl, Kripke asked, "Want some?"

Nodding, Hill scooted her chair around next to his, placed her hand on his shoulder as he spooned the sweet treat into her mouth. She let it melt then swallowed and he silently asked her if she wanted more. Shaking her head, she leaned close and kissed him. When she pulled away, his eyes were wide and his mouth had dropped open. He closed it again then said, "Wow! I did _not_ expect that."

"Me either. But here we are in the most romantic city on Earth and I thought, hey, why not?"

"I'm glad you did." Setting his bowl aside, he got to his feet, holding out his hand. Hill put hers into it and together they walked back toward the rendezvous point.

~~O~~

Clint landed the quinjet, shut the engines down and came into the back to grab his bag and Naomi's hand. Once out on the deck, they wrapped their arms around each other, hustling across the expanse and into the ship. The narrow corridors made it difficult for them to maintain that position so Clint followed behind her, the two of them not talking.

They passed a group of newly assigned agents, two looking at Clint with curiosity, the third glaring a hole in Clint's back as they passed. Clint came to a sudden stop, dropped his bag, made an about face and went to confront the tallest of the three. "_What_ did you say?"

The man crossed his arms and snorted. "I was just telling my pals here about Barney Barton."

The icy stare Clint gave the man sent shivers down Naomi's spine, and it was made worse by the tone of his voice. "You got something to say about my brother then say it or keep your big mouth shut." Clint turned away, swinging back around at the man's next words.

"Your _brother_ was a dirty agent. And we all know that dirty's in the blood. I bet you're just like him." Naomi knew that Clint was holding onto his temper by a very slim thread that was in danger of snapping, and silently asked the man to stop talking before he made it worse, but apparently he thought he knew better. "How do we know you weren't working with Loki of your own free will? Barney was paid to look the other way on some of our ops. Made sure they didn't pan out. How much did that alien b****** pay you to steal the Tesseract and help him escape? Was it _really_ worth the lives of the agents you killed?"

The next few seconds were a blur. Clint punched the man in the stomach hard enough to double him over then got him in a sleeper hold. The man tried prying Clint's arms free, but Clint was much stronger than he looked. The other man's eyes bulged and his face turned red as he desperately tried to take in oxygen. His voice tight with anger, Clint said, "You should be careful when talking about things you have _no_ idea about! They could get you killed."

Naomi opened her mouth to say…what, she didn't know. She just kept watching with horrid fascination as the stranger's struggles got weaker and weaker.

"Agent Barton! Let him go!" At the harshly spoken order from Director Fury, Clint released the man. He fell to his knees, a hand to his throat, greedily sucking in oxygen. When he looked up again, the glare had turned deadly. The two agents who hadn't interfered helped the third to his feet, the four men waiting for their boss to speak again. Fury scowled, drilling both men with his one good eye. "My office. Now!"

Fury spun on his heel, his long black coat swirling and boots ringing on the deck. Naomi touched Clint on the arm, her eyes wide, offering what support she could.

~~O~~

Clint gave Naomi a short nod then followed Lucero to the bridge, all conversation coming an abrupt halt. The archer idly mused that gossip traveled faster than the speed of light. Fury's office was open. The two men stepped inside and the door closed behind them.

The SHIELD director looked from one to the other, but Clint kept his eyes focused on a spot over the man's shoulder. "Because it's unlikely that I'll get the truth out of either of you, we'll go to video." The recording of the fight Clint had just had with Lucero played on the overhead screen, yet Clint couldn't find it in himself to feel remorse. Lucero had been right. Barney _had_ been a crooked agent, but hearing it said out loud and in front of witnesses had caused him to automatically leap to his brother's defense. When the recording ended, Fury waited, but neither man said anything, so the director walked around coming to a stop behind them. "Agent Lucero, I fail to see the wisdom in purposely provoking one of my best agents by sullying the reputation of someone who is unable to defend himself."

Particularly now, so long after the events surrounding Loki, it seemed there was something more going on and Lucero had a good reason for his behavior. Or thought he did. Later, Clint would look into the other agent's background to see what he could find out.

"Sir, everyone knows what Barney Barton was. He…"

"Everyone? Shall we test that theory?" Fury tapped his comm. "Fury to Hill. My office." A moment later, Hill came in to stand next to Clint, but didn't indicate in any way that she even knew he was there. "Agent Hill, tell me what you know of an FBI agent by the name of Barney Barton."

"He is-was Agent Barton's brother. He was killed in the line of duty about three years ago."

"And?"

Hill paused before continuing. "And what, sir?"

Pacing back around in front of the agents, Fury seemed to consider what she'd said. He nodded, Hill left and he continued to pace. "Lucero, were you present when Loki appeared through the portal?"

The other agent shifted his feet nervously. "No, sir. I wasn't."

"So you have absolutely _no_ first-hand knowledge of the events that took place at the compound or what followed?"

Again Lucero shifted adding a throat clearing. "No, sir."

"I see." Fury walked around behind his desk and sat down. "Agent Barton, you're free to go."

His brow furrowed in confusion, Clint merely turned and exited the room, the door sliding closed behind him. Hill caught his eye and nodded once. Clint returned it and left the bridge with all due haste.

~~O~~

Folding his hands on the desk, Fury kept Lucero pinned with his gaze. "Hot or cold?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Do you like hot or cold weather, Lucero? It's a simple enough question."

The agent flicked his eyes to the side and back, obviously confused. "Hot, sir. I'm from Key West."

Tapping a few keys on his workstation, Fury stared intently at the screen for a moment. "It's my considered opinion that you and this organization are not a good fit. Pack up and get off my ship. When Lucero had gone, Fury called Hill in again. "I have a special project that needs to be completed quickly, discretely and before Thanksgiving."

Hill's lips twisted into a smirk. "Accident or an execution? I can do both."

Fury's one good eye widened with disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"Lucero. You want him taken out, right?"

"No. Lucero has been…reassigned. The project I have in mind is of a more personal nature."

Her hands going behind her back, Hill nodded as Fury laid out his request. "You can trust me, Director."

~~O~~

Still filled with anger that had been somewhat mitigated by the knowledge that Lucero was getting a dressing down by Fury, Clint went to his room wishing they had regular doors he could slam. His duffle bag was on the bed with a note from Naomi asking him to come see her. He shed his jacket and headed for her office. As soon as she saw him she got to her feet, concern in her dark eyes. "What happened with the director?"

"Lucero's in with him now." He was still filled with nervous energy from the encounter and it took all his willpower to keep from pacing. "I need to…I'm going to the range."

Naomi grinned and shook her head. "I'll go with you." His expression of shock had to be comical because she snickered. "You did say you'd give me come pointers." She poked him in the chest. "I get lessons and you get to shoot something."

Shaking his head, Clint grinned back. "You always know just what to say." A few minutes later, they entered the range and were assigned a slot at the far end away from the others at Clint's insistence. That way they'd be able to talk privately if they had to. Just because the shooters were wearing safety gear didn't mean they wouldn't try to listen in. Clint checked out a weapon for Naomi and they put on goggles and hearing protection. "Okay, let's see what you've got."

~~O~~

Nervous at doing this in front of Clint for the first time, Naomi took her stance, flipped off the safety, aimed and fired, hitting the target in the upper left corner, well outside the black. At least Clint didn't laugh. "Whoops. Out of practice." She aimed again and this time hit the silhouette near the left thigh.

Clint stood behind her placing his hands on her hips using that to adjust her position. "Square off the target, feet shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent. Hold your right fist in your left palm. Don't tense up." His arms came around her to help, his chest pressing lightly against her back as he repositioned her hands slightly. "Using your dominant eye, align the top of the front sight with the top of the rear sight. Now squeeze the trigger until you start to feel resistance…breathe in…exhale and…fire!"

The order came so quickly she automatically fired hitting the target low in the five. "Hey! I did it!"

He stepped away, his voice taking on a stern, instructor-like tone. "That was better, but not good enough for quals and you're gonna pass if we have to do this every day." "Again."

Sighing in frustration, she laid the weapon on the counter. "I'll never get it. I'm gonna lose my job _and_ my security clearance." Crossing her arms, she turned to face Clint. "I don't want to go back into private practice."

Taking her in his arms, Clint hugged her close. "Not gonna happen." He moved back to look her in the eyes. "Tell you what, you get any three of the next ten shots in the ten space and we'll spend the weekend together at that spa you were talking about."

She immediately brightened. "Really? And you won't complain?"

"Not even once." She hesitated and he leaned close to whisper in her ear. "Saunas, mud baths, deep tissue massages, anything you want. And all you have to do is hit the target dead center three times."

Naomi didn't even have to think about it. Mostly because she'd been waiting for just this moment. "You're _on!_" She picked up the weapon, ejected the partial magazine, inserted a full one, chambered a round and fired off the entire clip, hitting the ten spot every time. When through, she ejected the empty clip and removed her ear protection. "Okay. Pay up!"

His expression of slack-jawed awe made her chuckle which he responded to with a mock stern glare that he couldn't keep up. "What the hell? You _played_ me!"

"Maria's been giving me lessons. She's also teaching me to spar and a little hand-to-hand."

"But _I _was gonna teach you."

Draping her arms over his shoulders, she pressed up against him, a tempting smile in place. "I remembered the time you tried to teach me to shoot a bow and arrow and…"

He grinned at the memory. "Oh, right."

Turning serious, Naomi stepped out of his arms. "Want to talk about what happened before?"

"Not really."

Leaning against the counter, Naomi looked down at her feet then back to his eyes, seeing that he had the good grace to be contrite for his earlier behavior. "Try counting to ten. Give yourself time to cool down."

"If I start counting to ten, I'd lose my patience at five."

"There is that." Taking his hand, she led him out into the hall. "Come on. Shooting things makes me hungry."

~~O~~

The lab was quiet and that's just how Banner liked it. And it was quiet because Stark hadn't been in for some time leaving the scientist on his own since they'd returned from Paris. Smiling wistfully, Banner thought about Clint's friend, Genevieve. She'd been smart, funny and highly entertaining the one night they'd spent in each other's company.

Yawning, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He'd been working for more than twelve hours straight and hadn't made any headway in his current project. As much as he wanted to do this himself, he admitted that he could use Stark's input yet still hesitated to make the call.

He glanced at the clock and decided a meal and a nap would do wonders for lubricating the thought processes. _ Nap first. _ Tapping the screen, he dimmed the lights before flopping onto the sofa and covering his eyes with a pillow. He was just about to doze off when the comm chirped. With a groan, he pulled out his Stark Industries phone and saw he had a text.

_Bruce, _

_I had a wonderful time in Paris. You're a superb dinner and dancing companion. _

_I'll be in New York next week on business. Would you care to have dinner with me one night?_

_À bientôt,_

_Genevieve_

A moment of panic whispered through Banner's brain as he shot off the sofa and headed for the elevators, silently urging it to hurry while tapping his fingers against his thigh, jumping out before the doors had even opened all the way. He spotted Natasha sitting on the patio curled up in a chair reading. Brushing a hand through his hair and trying not to look as nervous as he felt, Banner stepped out onto the patio. "Got a minute, Natasha?"

Natasha looked up from her book and gave him a smile. The smile faded at the look on his face. "Of course. What's wrong?"

"I, uh, got a text."

"And?"

He held up the phone as if that were the answer she was looking for. "Genevieve. She wants to have dinner."

Natasha laid the book aside and patted the foot of the chaise inviting him to sit so he did. "What's the problem?"

"What does she do?"

That made Natasha smile again. "I guess you could call her an independent defense coordinator."

Puzzled, Banner peered at Natasha seeing the sparkle of humor in her eyes. "That's SHIELD-speak for arms dealer/bodyguard/spy."

"In a manner of speaking. She's not SHIELD, but she does work for the good guys."

"How much can I tell her? Does she know about…the Other Guy?"

Drawing her knees up to her chest, Natasha wrapped her arms around them. "She knows everything that you know and almost as much as Stark knows. Clint and I discussed it and we thought it best if you tell her about the Other Guy yourself. That is if the two of you are going to be dating."

Getting to his feet, Banner went to the railing, leaning his elbows on the top, looking out over the city though not at any one thing. He heard the creak of the chair and a moment later Natasha was at his side.

"It's not a good idea. I only have tenuous control over when the Other Guy comes out. At any moment, something could happen, we could be attacked or I could be shot at or even stub a toe and destroy not only Times Square, but any chance of having a relationship with her or any woman for that fact."

Natasha turned to the side, leaning on the railing and watching him. "What I'm getting from all of this is that you want to pursue a relationship with Genevieve, but you're concerned that she'll run if confronted with the reality of the Other Guy."

Banner nodded. "Exactly."

"If you want it, go for it. She might be just what you need to keep the Other Guy under control."

"My concern isn't for the everyday dinner and dancing dates." A shy and more than a little embarrassed smile crossed his face. "Getting angry isn't the only think that brings him out. One of the triggers is when my heart rate gets above two hundred."

With a smile, Natasha squeezed his hand. "Trust me. She is _just_ what you need."

Banner didn't quite know what to make of the enigmatic smile. "I _do_ trust you. Thanks." The Black Widow retrieved her book and went back inside, closing the door behind her. Banner scrolled to Genevieve's number and dialed. "Genevieve? Bruce. Dinner would be great. What night is good for you?"

~~O~~

The Mess Hall was crowded for mid-afternoon, Clint and Naomi sharing a table with Hill and Kripke. Conversation was lively with only a few disagreements, mostly between Hill and Clint over some minor point in one of the many pools going on around the ship. With Naomi's help, they were kept short.

Naomi got up to get a refill and Kripke had left for his shift on the bridge leaving Clint and Hill alone for the moment. Clint's eyes followed Naomi's trek across the Mess Hall, a smitten expression on his face that he hadn't realized was there until Hill poked him in the ribs with an elbow and snickered. "Barton?"

Still distracted by his fiancée's sweet little walk, he answered with, "Hmm?"

"You should've done that a long time ago."

Now she had his attention. "What?"

"Fell in love. You've changed since Naomi came on board, though I'm still trying to decide if I like it or not."

Grinning, Clint brought his gaze back to his friend. "That's the secret, Maria. I _did_." He downed the rest of his coffee before responding. "Just between you and me, I fell in love with her less than a month of meeting her." While Hill was absorbing that fact, Clint watched her thoughtfully. She'd changed as well. "Just out of curiosity, what took you and Kripke so long to start rockin' the boat?" Passing Hill a napkin when she choked on her coffee, Clint grinned.

"Is _nothing_ sacred to you?"

"Nope." Clint could see that Hill was geared up for another of her famous tirades when Naomi returned. Their conversation didn't have a chance to get started again due to the appearance of Fury.

"Agent Barton, Dr. Marks, I need a word with you in private."

Clint exchanged a concerned glance with Naomi. They knew that at some point there would be a need for them to justify the two of them remaining in their current positions. SHIELD's regulations didn't expressly forbid them from having an intimate relationship, but neither did it encourage such. Now it was time to pay the piper, so to speak. Without a word, the couple followed the director out into the hall, but to their surprise, he didn't lead them to his private office.

"There's a rumor going around that the two of you are engaged."

Naomi was the first to speak. "It's not a rumor, Director."

"And when did this come about?"

Though he wanted to hold Naomi's hand to comfort her and receive comfort in return, he clasped his hands behind his back out of respect for their superior with Naomi imitating him. "Couple of weeks ago, sir."

Fury seemed to think this tidbit over for a moment. "And you didn't see fit to ask for her hand from her mother or her father, Agent Barton?"

"_I_ asked _him_, Nick. Not the other way around. I wanted Mother to be the first to know and we won't be seeing her until the end of the week for Thanksgiving."

"I see." Fury came to a stop in front of a door that had no name plate affixed to the bulkhead. He touched his hand to the fingerprint reader then gestured for his daughter and her fiancé to enter then followed them in. Inside, it was more than twice the size of a regular room with a queen-sized bed, two built-in sets of drawers and closets. There were also two desks, a small sofa and additional small tables. "Since you're marrying my daughter, off duty, I expect to be called Nick. Not 'Director' or 'sir'. Is that understood?"

Dumbfounded, Clint could only stare for several seconds. "Yes, sir." Shaking his head and grinning, Clint added, "I mean Nick." The name sounded strange, but orders were orders.

"You're expected to vacate your current quarters within twenty-four hours as we have new agents arriving tomorrow and they'll need someplace to sleep." Going to the door, Fury turned. "I'm taking a few days off. While I'm away, Agent Hill will be in charge."

"And?" Naomi asked when he didn't elaborate.

For one of the few times Clint could remember him doing so, Fury gave them a smile filled with warmth and that's when it dawned on the archer that this was the director's way of saying he approved of his daughter's choice of a mate. Without another word, Fury left them alone.

After he'd gone, they continued to stare at the closed door for a while then Clint felt Naomi take his hand and pull him over to the bed, yanking his shirt from his waistband as they went. "I think we should celebrate."

Wrapping her in his embrace, Clint tumbled them onto the bed, which was way more comfortable than the twins in their previous separate quarters. "I think you're right."

~~O~~

With Thanksgiving only three days away, Gina, Francine and Tizzie were busy getting the house in shape for their guests. Not usually nervous, Gina couldn't help being just a little concerned when her daughter called to say she was bringing a guest home. A man. Gina was elated and disappointed at the same time because she'd continued to harbor the possibility that Naomi would one day get back together with Clint. Though she'd be happy with whatever choice her daughter made, she couldn't help how she felt.

Gina was in the formal dining room setting the table when the doorbell rang. Going to the bottom of the stairs, she shouted, "I'll get it!"

Wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist over her work clothes, Gina used the back of her hand to brush stray hairs off her face as she opened the door. Her mouth dropped open and all she could do was stare as her stomach shot up to her throat where it was now keeping her heart company. She also wished she'd had some warning that he was coming so she could've made herself presentable.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Uh…c-come in. Please." Holding the door open, she gestured for her guest to enter. His presence had always been overpowering and suddenly, with him in her home for the first time, the entry hall seemed small. "Wh-what are you doing here, Nick?"

**TBC**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 20**

Fury looked at his ex-girlfriend, the mother of his child, and smiled. "To see you."

Gina completely forgot about how she was dressed as Fury waited for her to speak, but she had no idea what to say. It had been more than thirty years since they'd seen each other and, in the time she'd created a multi-million dollar business, he'd lost his left eye. "Why are you here? Why now after all these years?"

He clasped his hands together in front of him, a regretful smile coming to his face. "It was brought to my attention recently that my actions in the past have been…ill-advised, especially in the way I treated you and our daughter."

His sudden claiming of Naomi as his child angered Gina. "Oh, no! She's MY daughter! You haven't been a part of her life since she was a child. I brought her up alone and think I did a damn good job of it!"

"I agree."

"And not only that…wait. What did you _say?_"

Fury glanced at the door leading to a large sitting room off the entry hall. "I didn't expect you to welcome me with open arms, but could we at least have a seat?"

Normally a very gracious hostess, just this once Gina wanted to kick him out just so she could slam the door in his face, but the thought made her nauseous. Not that she wasn't already. Without a word, she led the way. He removed his long coat, draping it over the back of the sofa then seating himself with a fluidity and control that she'd always admired. Those same attributes had been passed down to their daughter even without him being there as an example.

She perched on the edge of the chair to his right so he wouldn't have to turn his head to look at her though she would've preferred it if he didn't. Not much had changed about the affect he had on her. She still felt the attraction as strongly as the day they'd met. To combat the feeling, she stood. "Would you like coffee?"

"Only if you join me. I don't want to put you out."

"It's a little late for that. I've been 'put out' since the day we met."

Crossing one leg over the other, Fury smiled. "I don't want to put you out _more._"

Nodding, Gina scurried from the room and dashed down the hall to the kitchen, leaning against the door just for a moment before dumping out the old coffee and started a fresh pot. While taking down cups and the carafe, she caught her reflection in the chrome front of the refrigerator and gasped. She was a fright! Clothes dirty and her hair sticking up every which way.

In the downstairs bathroom, she ran a comb through her hair then went into the laundry room to yank a clean shirt and pants from the dryer. By the time the coffee was done, she was a little more presentable. In the medicine cabinet, she found a small bottle of body spray that apparently belonged to one of the girls. She spritzed a little on then returned to the kitchen.

Taking a deep breath, she carried the tray down the hall, Fury jumping up to help as soon as she stepped into the room. He set the tray on the coffee table then poured them each a cup of coffee. "Still take it with cream and one sugar?"

Surprised that he remembered, all Gina could do was nod. He passed her a cup and she busied herself stirring and watching him out of the corner of her eye, glad that he didn't mention the change in her appearance. She sipped from the cup not sure what to say next. Before she could make a decision, Fury set his cup on the table and reached out to take her hand. "I just came to talk. Then I'll leave and you'll never see me again."

"Promise?" Gina said it with such enthusiasm that Fury burst out laughing and after a moment, she did too. "Want me to start?"

Shaking his head and grinning, Fury reached for one of the cookies on the tray, and somehow that broke the tension. "Perhaps I should go first, because once you get started, I won't be able to get a word in edgewise until sometime tomorrow."

"How did you find me? I don't exactly live in the same neighborhood."

He bit off a piece of cookie, chewed reflectively as if he were making a decision. "I've always known where you and our daughter lived." Not quite understanding what he was saying, or rather the way he was saying it, Gina just waited. "Some of what I told you when we were together was true and some was not. I've come here today to rectify that situation."

"Why now?"

"I'll get to that soon. If you have questions, don't hesitate to ask." Gina nodded, he finished off his cookie, wiped his hands and mouth before continuing. "I grew up in Hell's Kitchen. My mother died when I was five, my father died when I was ten, my brother was killed in Beirut and my sister was killed in a car accident the following year. I enlisted in the Army the day after I graduated from high school. When my second tour was up, I was recruited by Homeland Security though it wasn't called that until after 9/11.

"When we met, I was going by the name of Nicholas Ray Alden." She nodded wondering why he was rehashing old news, but didn't interrupt. "I was actually under deep cover to catch an arms dealer by the name of Sergei Utkin."

"That Russian guy you were always hanging around with? He really creeped me out."

He looked pointedly at her and she shut up. "We chose the building where the studio was because who would look for a top-secret organization in the same location as a porn studio? Three years after Naomi was born, we finally brought down the entire network, and when that operation ended, so did Nick Alden.

"I wanted to tell you, many times I started to, but there was always the next mission, a new identity." Fury stopped to finish his coffee and pick up another cookie though he didn't immediately eat it. "Shortly after Naomi's fifth birthday, a new super-secret organization came into being and I was tasked with recruiting and training the agents and support staff."

To Gina, this sounded very much like what Clint had hinted at when he and his partner had asked for her help in catching another arms dealer. She wanted to ask, but Clint had sworn her to secrecy and she'd never broken that promise.

"We're still in operation."

"What's it called? Or can't you tell me?"

Reaching for the carafe, Fury poured another cup of coffee, dunking his cookie and chewing before responding. "SHIELD. Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. I'm the director and answer only to the World Security Counsel. We operate under a much broader scope than the Homeland Security, FBI and CIA. In fact, it was SHIELD who was responsible for repelling the alien invasion over Manhattan."

Gina wanted to interrupt, to say something, anything, but she couldn't. She too had seen the news footage and knew that Clint had been a member of the team called the Avengers. Did that mean that all those years ago and again when he and Natasha had enlisted her help, they'd been working for "her" Nick? "What's your real name?"

"The name I was given at birth was Nicholas Joseph Fury." He put a hand up to forestall her next question. "There's more, but I want you to know that I had _nothing_ whatsoever to do with it. Just over three months ago Naomi came to work for SHIELD."

"My _daughter_ is a…a _spy?_"

Chuckling, Fury shook his head. "No. Naomi is a staff psychologist who ministers to the mental health of our spies and assassins." He raised the cup to his lips, drank down the rest of the coffee and got to his feet. "I want no more lies between us."

Gina stood as well, brushing her hands down the back of her slacks. "Nick…" she huffed, "Why'd you tell me? You had to have a reason."

"It clears the air. If you're willing, I would like to start over. A clean slate." Fury looked at the clock on the mantel when it struck the hour then passed her a card. "Here's my private number. I'm staying at the InterContinental on Bossier. Call me any time, day or night. If I don't hear from you in forty-eight hours, I'll understand." And with that statement, he left her standing in the middle of the sitting room, the front door closing behind him a moment later.

~~O~~

Hours after Fury left, Clint and Naomi were still enjoying their new quarters having already tried out the bed. Naomi's head was pillowed on his shoulder, his new favorite sleeping position, playing with her hair, putting off carrying out Fury's orders to vacate their old rooms at least for now. "This beats squeezing the two of us into a twin every night."

"Yeah. Who know my father could be so understanding."

Clint didn't bother going into the details of the invasion that never made it into their reports. Fury had a strong sense of loyalty to his people, his country and his planet. Naomi would find out soon enough. If what he suspected was true, she'd be singing a different tune come Thanksgiving. And that reminded him of another Thanksgiving making him snicker.

Naomi lifted her head to look at him. "What?"

He brushed the hair from her forehead. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"Twelve years ago." His right arm joined the left at her waist snuggling her closer. "You gave me grief over bring two little guns into the house while your mother drives around with a pump action shotgun in the trunk."

She shrugged causing their skin to slide against each other, the sensation very arousing. "Yeah. So?"

"So it's no wonder Fury fell in love with her. Go Momma! Ow!"

She'd jammed her elbow into his stomach just below the sternum in order to raise up to look him in the face. "_Clint!_"

Holding her tight to his chest when she slung her leg over to straddle his hips, he shrugged. "Hey! What man wouldn't?"

The look in her eyes changed to teasing. "So I need to go get a pump action?"

"All _you_ ever needed to do was smile." The teasing grin turned into that enchanting upturn of her lips from the moment he first saw her on the rotunda. "Yeah. That one. Though I gotta admit the thigh holster's a nice touch too."

Pressing her lips against his, Naomi turned her head to the side, her palms holding his head still while she ravaged his mouth. When they separated, she rubbed her nose against his. "I remember the first time I saw you in one."

"Yeah? Tell me."

"You'll laugh." Proving her point, he did just that. "Stop! I was watching a recast of a news program where you and the other Avengers were being given an award by the president for saving Earth. It didn't really look like part of your suit, but it really caught my eye."

Rolling his eyes, Clint kissed the top of Naomi's head. "You and thousands of other women. After the invasion, we started getting fan mail. It got so bad that Stark hired a bunch of people to open and sort it. We get the ones from the kids and from places like Make a Wish Foundation and answer them ourselves."

"So that's what you were doing the night we were locked in. I woke up in the middle of the night and you were typing away at the computer. And the pictures on the refrigerator? They're from the kids?"

"Mm-hm." He knew his voice sounded wistful and a bit preoccupied. "Which reminds me. There's something I wanna run by you now that we're getting married."

Her smile faded just a little. "Oh? Sounds serious."

"Since it concerns our future, I'd say it's pretty serious."

Rolling off of him, Naomi cuddled against his side again. "I'm listening."

~~O~~

Fury's personal cell rang, the caller ID showing Gina's landline and name. "Fury."

"_It's Gina._" She had seldom sounded so hesitant. It was strange to hear it now and know that he was the cause. "_I'm not saying yes, but not saying no either._"

"Understood."

There was a long pause. "_It's just that…I've spent all these years wondering what it was that _I_ could've done to drive you away and all this time it was _you_."_ He didn't say a word. She would get to the point soon enough. "_Come to Thanksgiving dinner. Naomi's bringing her new boyfriend, but then you've probably already met him. Uh, that's all. Come any time after nine and you can help with the cooking. You were always good with a knife. Now I know why._"

"I'll be there. And Gina…"

"Yeah?"

Though she couldn't see it, his smiled was filled with warmth and affection for the woman he never stopped loving. He and Barton-Clint were the same that way. They were both one woman men. "Thank you."

The line disconnected and Fury sat holding the phone in his hand, the smile still in place. He was being given a second chance with the mother of his child, and this time he wouldn't to waste it.

~~O~~

Choosing to drive to Southampton on Thursday morning, Clint and Naomi pulled up to the house close to ten that morning. As they passed the gas station, they'd shared a grin remembering when he'd nearly ran off the road after the revelation about her mother's business.

Parked in its usual place was Gina's Lexus, a rental car parked alongside. Holding Clint's hand, Naomi said, "I wonder who's here already."

"Jared?"

She shook her head. "He drives a Bentley and usually walks over." Biting her lip, she gave him a furtive glance. "I told Mother I was bringing someone with me, but didn't tell her it was you _or_ that we're engaged so be prepared for anything."

"I always am with your mother, but thanks for the warning." He knocked on the door and it was opened a short time later, Clint and Naomi speechless for the first few seconds.

"Uh…Nick, what are you doing here?"

Fury smiled and invited them to enter. "Your mother invited me to share the holiday."

"O-kay." Leading the way, Naomi took Clint to the coat room her mother had installed five years ago. They hung up their coats and stashed their bags arriving in the kitchen in time to hear a minor disagreement between her parents.

"Add more brown sugar, Nick," Gina instructed in her no-nonsense voice.

"I _know_ how to make candied yams, Gina."

Gina huffed in frustration. "Apparently not or you'd know there's not enough brown sugar."

"Um…" And that was all Naomi could say as Fury glared in a good-natured way at her mother.

"What's going on, Mother?"

Gina turned, the wooden spoon she'd been using to stir the pot on the stove in one hand. From the scent, it was homemade cranberry relish, Naomi's favorite. "We're making dinner. What does it…" Gina saw Clint, dropped the spoon, and with a whoop of joy, threw herself into his arms nearly strangling him in the process.

Without hesitating, he picked her up and swung her in a circle. "Does that mean you're happy to see me?"

"Happy?" He put her on her feet again though she kept hold of his hands. "I'm speechless!"

With a grin and the lift of one eyebrow, Clint said, "Now _that_ would be a Thanksgiving miracle."

Fury turned from adding extra brown sugar to the yams, wiped his hands on the apron tied around his waist and extended his right hand. "Happy Thanksgiving, Clint."

"Same to you, sir. Uh, Nick."

Naomi retrieved the spoon her mother had dropped and put it in the sink. The light glinted off her ring drawing Gina's attention and causing another squeal. She hugged first Naomi then pulled Clint into a group hug. "I am so happy for you! Have you set a date? No of course you haven't. What am I saying? We'll spend the weekend picking dates and dresses and…"

"Mother! No! We're not ready to set a date yet."

Hands on her hips, Gina looked from one to the other. "Why not? That should've been your first priority after the proposal and the ring. Not to mention…"

"Giovanna." Fury hadn't shouted or raised his voice even a little, but that one word brought Gina to a halt, a glare in place and hands on her hips.

"I haven't been called that since…"

Now Fury gave her a half-smile. "Since the day I left?"

The jubilant atmosphere dimmed somewhat at the memory. "Yeah." Gina cleared her throat and took a small key from the drawer nearest the refrigerator. "Clint, would you…"

"Wine. Three kinds, two of each?"

"Make it four bottles of each to be safe. We have more guests this year."

Clint got that he was being sent on the errand to give the family a few moments alone so he took his time choosing the wine then waited another ten minutes before returning to the kitchen. By then there were several other guests milling around in the sitting room, one of which was Suzanne. The resident cougar was hanging on the arm of a man at least ten years her junior, both of them looking very much in love. Setting the box of wine on the counter, Clint went to greet her and the other guests.

With a surprised gasp and a brilliant smile, Suzanne gave him a peck on the cheek and proudly introduced him to her husband, Harrison Davis. Clint gathered that he'd made his fortune through an internet-based business, but didn't ask for details.

The remainder of the food prep was completed with the minimum amount of arguments making him wonder what the three of them had said while he was downstairs. Per Gina's instructions, he placed the wine that needed chilling in the second refrigerator in the pantry then returned to the sitting room where Naomi was talking to a mixed group of men and women. At least this time he and Jared weren't the only men.

He'd just got into a lively discussion about the Super Bowl when the doorbell rang, hearing Gina go to answer it. A moment later, Jared's distinctive voice echoed through the entry hall. Clint grinned and drank his coffee.

~~O~~

Standing on the front steps, Jared smoothed a hand over his short blond hair shot through with gray as he approached the age of sixty, adjusted his tie and tugged on the cuffs of his Persian blue shirt. It perfectly matched his charcoal gray virgin wool suit and a silk tie and pocket square combination with a stunning platinum and black paisley design.

The door opened and Gina went into his arms, hugging him tight. "Gina, my love. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Same to you and thanks for coming. I really, really need your shoulder to lean on today." She drew him inside as he shed his coat and scarf, hanging them in the coat closet, taking note of the strange outerwear and bags sitting neatly on the floor off to one side.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, my dear. The coconut telegraph says you have a special guest and I have to meet him."

Gina tucked her hand around Jared's right elbow. "Don't want to miss the fireworks, huh?"

"Not on your life. I also heard that Naomi would be here with her new beau so this is a two-for-one visit." The chatter of voices, clinking of dishes and soft music became clearer the closer they got to the sitting room. "Where is he?"

Jared jumped when Fury came up behind him. "Right here." The SHIELD director's one good eye looked him up and down without expression. "And you are?"

"Suitably intimidated, and you are _so_ rockin' that leather look." The men shook hands. "Jared Fox."

"Nick Fury."

Leaning close to Gina, Jared stage-whispered out the side of his mouth, "Who is he?"

In the same tone, but with humor, she responded, also speaking out the side of her mouth, "Naomi's father."

"Ah." He should've known from the description Gina had once given him, though she'd neglected to mention the eye patch. "Are we welcoming him with open arms or like a step-child at a family reunion?"

Though Fury's expression didn't change, a glint of humor appeared in his dark brown eyes when Gina chuckled. "Somewhere in the middle for now. Oh, and there's a surprise in the sitting room."

"Fabulous! I _love_ surprises."

"I guarantee this one will knock your socks off. Naomi brought her new fiancé."

Clasping his hands together and gasping, Jared could barely contain his glee. "I love weddings! And _I_ will do _all_ the planning. We'll start with…"

"…introducing yourself. Go!"

~~O~~

When Jared had gone, Gina chuckled, shaking her head at her friend's overly dramatic ways. Jared could be heard enthusiastically greeting everyone whether he knew the person or not.

"Does he _ever_ stop talking?"

"Not when he's this excited, no."

His shoulders slumping, Fury muttered, "Oh."

~~O~~

Standing near the corner bookshelves, Naomi laughed at something one of her mother's friends said until she head Jared's voice coming toward her. "Naomi, darling!" The designer swept her into a squishy hug. "Gina told me the good news. I want to see the rock and the fiancé in that order."

Naomi held out her hand so he could admire it. "Oh, darling that is _exquisite!_ Now where's the man? I want to thank him personally for helping you forget all about…"

"Hello, Jared."

True to form, and to the great delight of everyone, Jared performed a spin followed by a gasp and a what the **** demonstration that involved the use of his entire body and then some. His jaw dropped, his eyes bugged out and his hands flew out to the sides as he uttered a strangled scream just before throwing his arms around Clint almost knocking the two of them to the floor. "Oh…my…GAWD!"

"Good to see you again, Jared." Grinning, Clint awkwardly patted Jared on the back while Naomi just stood out of the way so she wouldn't get hurt. Jared held on so long Clint's eyes began to plead with her for help.

"Jared! Let him go!"

He finally released Clint, but kept hold of his hand. He snagged Naomi's hand too and dragged the couple to the sofa, sitting between them. "I want to know _everything_. The break-up, the reunion, reconciliation, engagement, wedding, honeymoon, when you're going to have kids, and if you're going to name one after me."

Unable to stop laughing, Naomi said in a choked voice, "We haven't even…"

"Oh, what am I saying? Of course you're going to name one of your kids after me. I'm fabulous!"

In the kitchen, the timer dinged giving Clint and Naomi a reason to get away. Clint gently removed his hand from Jared's, got to his feet and pulled Naomi after him. "We'll talk later, Jared."

"Of _course_ we will. Oh! I am just _so_ excited. Our little girl's getting married." His voice took on a wistful quality. Then his attention was captured by Suzanne and Harrison and he was off on another tangent.

In the kitchen, Clint and Naomi, standing between Fury and Gina, grinned and shook their heads, Fury saying, "The friends you keep, Gina. He reminds me of that boy who used to make the costumes for you."

Gina's lips twisted wryly. "That's because he _is_ the same boy. Just all grown up." She rolled her eyes at Fury's "Oh, really" stare. "Well, sort of."

Within twenty minutes, Naomi, Clint, Gina and Fury had the buffet set up. Their guests filled their plates and once everyone was seated, Gina held out her hands. Around the table, the others did the same with Fury hesitating just a moment before taking his daughter's and ex-girlfriend's hands for the traditional Thanksgiving dinner prayer.

~~O~~

"Amen." The word was echoed around the table as Gina sipped her wine. The intimacy of the meal necessitated by the number of guests made Gina feel a bit crowded, especially with Fury sitting to her left. Returning her wine glass to its former position, she smiled and turned to Fury. "Please pass the salt, Nick."

He frowned at her. "I salted the green beans while they were cooking."

"I might want more. Please pass it."

Nick still didn't reach for the shaker shaped like a turkey. "You haven't even tasted it. How do you know you need more salt?"

Gina huffed at him. "Will you just pass the damn salt?" She jumped when Naomi slammed her hand on the table.

"Oh, for God's sake, will you two go get a room!" Gina and Fury just looked at her in shock, but she ignored them while Clint and several others choked on their turkey. "You've done nothing but argue about _everything_ since Clint and I got here. It's getting old and you're making Clint uncomfortable."

Clint's hand went to his back pocket and he started to stand. "That's my phone. I need to…"

Again Naomi slapped a hand on the table. "Sit! We're having a family dinner if it kills us!"

Clearing his throat uneasily, Clint put on a falsely cheerful smile and picked up the red gingham covered basket in front of him. "Biscuits?"

**TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Thanks,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 21**

Clint held the basket out his eyes pleading for someone to say something, _anything_. "Made them myself, right out of the can."

To fill the awkward silence that had fallen over the room, several people took his offering and returned to their conversations. Eventually, the jittery atmosphere eased and talk flowed more easily…until Jared said, "Gina, love, I heard about your friend, Phil. I'm sorry for your loss."

Sadness came over Gina's expression, her eyes dropping to her plate as she reached for her wine. "Thank you, Jared, but Phil and I hadn't been together for over a year. Not since he met that cellist. And don't feel sorry for me. It's not like he and I were in love. We just had a friends-with-benefits thing going on."

Thankfully no one noticed that Clint, Naomi and Fury had stopped eating. Clint carefully set his fork on the edge of his plate as did Naomi, and together they drained their wine glasses. At the same time, they reached for the Shiraz, Naomi just a little ahead of Clint. She refilled her glass, handed the bottle to Clint and drank her glass dry again.

At a more sedate pace, Clint did the same, chancing a quick glance at Fury only to find the SHIELD director looking back at him. Clint shrugged sheepishly giving Fury a quick shake of his head. After a long moment, Fury resumed eating, the conversation between Jared and Gina flowing around them.

"Still, it must've broken your heart to hear the news."

"I was sad to lose a friend, yes, but he died trying to stop the alien invasion. That makes him a hero in my book."

Jared refilled his glass with the Riesling and held it up. "In _everyone's_ book. A toast to Gina's friend, Phil Coulson. And may we all remember that heroes are made by the paths they choose, not the powers they are graced with."

The unease that had settled over Clint lessened somewhat at the poignant tribute to his friend. He echoed the "hear, hear" of the other guests, and a touch on his arm drew his eyes to Naomi's, concern bright in her brown eyes. With a sad smile, he tapped his glass against hers. Surprising them, Fury's glass clinked against theirs. "To Phil."

The rest of the meal passed quicker than Clint would've liked to go by the occasional glances Fury sent his and Naomi's way. You didn't have to be a psychologist _or_ a profiler to know that Fury would be cornering them later. With their personal relationship changing from non-existent to related-by-marriage, Clint hoped this incident didn't irrevocably damage the connection between the three of them. He wanted Naomi to know her father, not be alienated from him before it ever got off the ground. And no, he didn't miss the pun his mind supplied.

When he was done eating, Clint carried his plate to the kitchen where Naomi was already getting the water ready to wash the dishes. Moments later, they both felt the presence of Fury though they didn't say anything. He reached around Clint to put a stack of dishes on the counter.

Apparently deciding to take the bull by the horns, Naomi said, "Nick, the reason we didn't tell you was…"

"Whatever relationship Agent Coulson had with your mother is none of my business." He pushed up the sleeves of his black turtleneck. "I understand that it's a tradition to play games after dinner then watch a Christmas movie while we have coffee and dessert."

"Yes, it is."

"In that case, I'll clear the table so Gina can attend to her guests while the two of you wash and put away. That work for you?"

Mentally sagging in relief, Clint nodded. "Yes, it does, Nick."

~~O~~

The Monday after Thanksgiving, Naomi and Clint drove out to Washington Heights to see Serene, Donny and their kids. The Warfield family had been displaced when their home was damaged during the invasion and they'd only been back in it for two months. When Naomi had called Serene to firm up their plans, she made sure that Donny understood all had been forgiven so he wouldn't try to beat the crap out of Clint. Not that the ADA would stand a chance against the agent. She would rather just nip any difficulties in the bud now to keep the men from causing a scene in front of Elyse and Matthew. That didn't mean there wouldn't be a scene, but hopefully this would mitigate the inherent aggressiveness from both men.

By the time they reached Washington Heights, snow was falling heavily. There was already six inches on the ground when they pulled up in front of the house. Running to the front door, Naomi knocked while Clint stood back until he was certain of the reception he'd receive.

Elyse, eleven going on twenty-five, opened the door, squealing in delight and throwing herself at Naomi. "Mom! Aunt Naomi's here!" Looking past Naomi, she saw Clint. "And she's got some _guy_ with her!"

"There's no need to yell. I'm right here." Serene gathered her into a hug just as Matthew came running. He skidded to a stop at seeing Clint, looking at him with wide curious eyes. Both kids had Donny's black hair, Elyse having blue eyes while Matthew's were brown.

Clint helped Naomi off with her coat then took his off, shaking the snow out the front door before closing it. He hung the coats in the hall closet then was surprised by Serene hugging him. Naomi smiled as he hugged back. "It's good to see you again, Serene."

"And I'm so glad that you've found each other again."

Naomi took Clint's arm and drew him into the living room. "Clint, this is Elyse and Matthew. My Godchildren."

Hooking his arm around her neck, he kissed her temple. In front of everyone! "_Our_ Godchildren."

"Yes." To Serene she said, "Where's Donny?"

Serene gestured for them to follow her to the kitchen where she took down cups and poured them each a cup of coffee. "In his office in the basement. He's about to try a big case and he's going over witness statements. Should be done soon." Crossing her arms, she looked Clint in the eye, her expression serious. "I told him what happened, at least as much as Naomi was able to tell me so he's willing to cut you some slack considering the circumstances."

"I'll talk to him myself, if that'll help."

Muffled footsteps sounded on the basement stairs just before the door opened and Donny joined them in the kitchen. "Honey, look who's here."

The dark-haired man came forward to hug Naomi. "Hey. How you been?"

"Good. Donny, you remember Clint."

Just for a moment, Donny's blue eyes narrowed then he offered his hand. "Clint."

"Donny." One of Clint's most charming smiles crossed his face.

Before Donny could start an argument or say something to upset the kids, Naomi waved her left hand under the ADA's nose. "We're getting married."

"It's about time." Turning to Serene, Donny smiled. "If you don't mind, Clint and I are going in the den for a few minutes to talk."

~~O~~

Clint followed Donny into the den where the moment the door closed, Donny got in Clint's face. "I understand why you left Naomi high and dry, really, and I'm glad you're here now. However, if you break her heart again, I _will_ take you down. And when you wake up, the first thing you'll see is me standin' over you reloadin' my shotgun. Got it?"

When Donny got excited, upset or angry, his Texas accent was more pronounced making Clint want to laugh because that particular accent was seldom heard in New York. But he didn't. He took Donny's words for what they were. A sincere wish for Naomi to be happy. "I have no intention of ever hurting her like that again, but the nature of my work is such that at any time I could be injured or even killed. That I didn't die twelve years ago was nothing short of a miracle."

Donny gave him an assessing stare. One that Clint could easily see intimidating a witness on the stand though Clint had seen worse. Had used worse on others. Now it was time for the hostility to end.

"Glad you didn't."

Clint looked down at his feet then back up. "Thank you for looking after Naomi when I couldn't."

Hands in his pockets, Donny shrugged then brought his eyes from the floor up to Clint's face. "You really had amnesia?"

"The docs kept telling me the memories might never come back, but they did a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, with all the good memories came the bad ones as well."

"Rough." The light pattering against the window suddenly got worse. Both men went to the window. "It's really coming down. You might have to stay the night."

Though Donny was genuinely sincere in wanting to let the past go, Clint could still see some wariness in his eyes, and if he and Naomi had to stay the night, he hoped they could come to a truce or this would be a very uncomfortable twenty-four hours. But Clint had a plan.

"I usually spend a couple hours with the kids, but with someone new to torment, I might get off easy tonight."

With a glint in his eyes, Clint said, "Doubt it. I've got a few ideas though."

They rejoined the rest of the family in the living room, Elyse and Matthew playing video games. Serene and Naomi were talking quietly in between cheering the kids on. As soon as she saw Donny, Serene stood. "Naomi and I are gonna have some girl talk in our room."

By the look on Naomi's face, "girl talk" was code for "planning the wedding." As soon as the women had gone, Donny clapped his hands. "How about we play teams? Clint and Elyse against Matthew and me."

The kids began arguing. Each of them wanted to be on Clint's team. Donny gave Clint a "what did I tell you" glance. Clint shrugged sheepishly. "I have a better idea. Let's turn off the video games." He waited while the kids did as he asked. "Now we need the following items…" With each item on the list, the kids became more and more bewildered, though willing to go along with his suggestions, at least for now.

~~O~~

Serene and Naomi were propped up in the king sized bed with cups of hot coffee and laptops. The door was open and they watched in puzzlement as the kids ran down the hall then ran back toward the living room dragging blankets and carrying flashlights. A few minutes later they came back and returned to the front of the house carrying their pillows and more blankets. The scent of burning wood drifted in telling them that a fire had been started in the fireplace.

"What are they _doing?_" Naomi asked.

Shrugging, Serene pointed to the screen. "What about this one?"

Naomi wrinkled her nose. "I know its old fashioned, but I want a traditional white dress. And _that_ would make me look like a giant bottle of Pepto Bismol. I don't want anything too showy. It's just going to be family and friends. No more than fifty people total."

The kids excited voices reached them next, but the women still didn't feel the need to investigate.

"What d'you think about lavender and white for the colors?" Serene suggested.

"Maybe. Is it just me or are you more into planning this wedding than I am?"

Chuckling, Serene clicked through to the next page. "My wedding was planned and executed in under five days so I'm going to enjoy myself while I can. What about peach or begonia? Oh! Guava!"

The women looked up when from the other room they heard Donny say, "On three. One, two, three."

They heard the front closet door open then close. The voices got a quieter after that and they went back to their planning. About fifteen minutes later, Serene looked up, her head turned to the side listening.

"What's wrong?"

Holding up her hand, Serene said, "Hear that?"

"I don't hear anything."

"That's just it. Two kids and two adult men should _not_ be this quiet. When they are, something's wrong." Setting the laptop aside, Serene led the way out into the living room finding it empty. "I've got a bad feeling…"

Naomi held up a hand for quiet. Someone was talking in a whisper. The women followed the voice into the dining room, taken aback by what they saw.

Using blankets, the dining room table had been made into a fort. Something Naomi recognized, but had never done as a child except when staying overnight at friends' houses.

Kneeling beside the table, Serene parted the blankets and the women were blinded by four flashlights. Through the light, they could see that Clint, Elyse, Matthew and Donny were all wearing knit caps with animal faces and long tassels.

Frowning, Donny demanded, "Halt! Who _dares_ enter the lair of the Silly Hat Society?"

"Uh…" was all Serene could say.

Clint peered at them with greatly overplayed mistrust. "What's the password?"

Elyse and Matthew chorused, "Yeah! What's the password?"

Naomi echoed, "Password?"

"Wrong!" said the four under the table together then Donny yanked the "fort" opening closed.

In a deep, eerie voice, Clint asked, "Where was I?"

Matthew piped up, "The evil sorcerer had just used his magic staff to turn the handsome prince into his slave."

"Right. Then the evil sorcerer turned the king's wizard and the captain of the guard into slaves as well, and together, the four of them stole the sacred Cube of Chaos and rode off into the sunset. They stopped on the way to their lair to build their evil army with which they would rule _all of Midgard!_" At the end, Clint's voice deepened, his booming laughter echoing from under the table. "Mwahahahaha!"

"What was the evil sorcerer's name?" Elyse inquired with awe in her voice.

"The evil sorcerer's name…was Loki."

Naomi followed Serene to the kitchen where they refilled their cups, added a generous amount of Bailey's Irish Cream and sipped quietly for a while then Naomi asked, "How many kids do you have?"

"Um, three?"

"And I have one so that make us…" she pointed at herself and her best friend, "…the only adults."

Serene took another sip and nodded. "Yup."

They quieted as they listened to Clint tell the story of Loki as an evil sorcerer, Naomi shaking her head. She'd promised not to psychoanalyze him, but she couldn't help it. To her psychologist's brain, it sounded as if he'd finally gotten over the incidents surrounding the invasion. He might still have the occasional bad dream and would continue to mourn the loss of Phil Coulson and other agents who'd died, but the worst was over. Now they really could start their new life together.

"Think the members of the Silly Hat Society would like some hot cocoa?"

"Yup."

Dinner time came around and the four refused to come from under the table so the women made sandwiches and gave them bags of chips to go with them. Eventually, bed time rolled through and Serene insisted that the kids get ready for bed. There was moaning and groaning from all four, but they did as they were told.

Naomi helped Serene carry baskets of dirty laundry down to the basement leaving the men watching something sports related on television. When they returned to the first floor, the television was still going and the men were gone.

Elyse screeched sending the women running down the hall. They stopped in front of Matthew's room hearing muffled thumps and laughter.

"Pillow fight," Serene hypothesized.

And Naomi agreed. "Yup."

~~O~~

Clint was awakened abruptly when someone kicked him in the back of the head. Not hard enough to hurt, but it did startle him. Remembering in time that he was in Serene and Donny's home and they had two young children, he managed to just roll over and sit up without almost killing someone. A good thing too, because it had been Matthew who'd bumped into him.

Scratching his chest and yawning, Clint looked around at the huge mess they'd made the night before. Donny was still asleep, cocooned in a heavy blanket and using a stuffed alligator for a pillow. Matthew had apparently slept on his bed and Clint was on the floor about six feet from Donny. Elyse had gone to her own room at some point because there was no evidence that she'd slept here.

Matthew was picking his way over and around the two men occupying his floor. He quietly opened the door and slipped out. Making as little noise as possible, Clint got to his feet and followed. The boy had gone into the bathroom so Clint stood beside the door until he came out then took his turn, and that's when he realized that his shoes were missing. He flushed and while he was washing his hands, he chanced a look in the mirror wondering how he could possibly have gotten an Oreo cookie stuck to his cheek. Carefully peeling it off, he dropped it into the trash. When the water got warm, he used the liquid soap to wash his face then ran wet hands through his hair sticking up all over the place trying to make it lay down. _I wasn't even drunk and can't remember what happened. So not fair!_

The smell of coffee drew him to the kitchen where he found Naomi and Serene sipping coffee and eating bowls of hot cereal and fresh fruit. Matthew was sitting next to his mother devouring a bowl of Lucky Charms.

Clint poured himself a cup of coffee as Elyse came out to join them looking as if she gotten the best night's sleep ever. "Uncle Clint?"

"Yeah?"

The girl hugged him around the waist releasing him after just a few seconds. "I had fun last night."

Behind him, Clint knew that Naomi and Serene were watching and listening. "Me too, kiddo."

"I'm glad you're gonna marry my Aunt Naomi."

He hooked an arm around the girl's neck and pulled her close to kiss the top of her head, his heart melting. "I'm glad I'm gonna marry your Aunt Naomi too."

The soft padding of feet on the carpet came toward them and stopped. Everyone looked at Donny yawning and scratching his head. He looked at something in his hand, confused. "How'd I get gummy bears in my hair?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "The same way I had an Oreo stuck to my cheek."

The two women blinked at their men, met one another's eyes, and burst into laughter as Matthew and Elyse ate their cereal as if nothing had gone wrong.

~~O~~

Lunch was over, the dishes done and all the clean clothes put away. Clint and Naomi had planned on leaving by noon, but the snow hadn't stopped yet and the roads were impassible. The kids had worn him out last night and again this morning, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. Serene had finally sent them to their rooms for some quiet time. One of the things he and the kids had done was to clean up the messes they'd made the night before. And he'd personally washed and dried all the blankets that had been used to make the table fort as well as changed the sheets on Matthew's bed to make up for it.

Now he was on the sofa clicking through the sports channels looking for a game that would hold his interest. He shut the television off and tossed the remote on the coffee table when Naomi came to sit next to him. Without a word, she held his hand. He draped an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. She swung her legs over his lap, his free hand dropping to her hip. She tilted her face up to his and kissed him. "Missed you last night."

"Missed you too. Where'd you sleep?"

"You and Donny fell asleep on the floor in Matthew's room so I slept in with Serene." Her left hand rubbed over the softness of the sweatshirt he'd borrowed from Donny while his clothes were being washed. "You know, we've never discussed having kids."

"I know. Do you _want_ kids?"

Naomi rolled her eyes to the ceiling giving the question thought. "I used to think so. And in some ways I still do, but we don't have to make a decision just yet." Her hand smoothed down his chest and back up. "We do need to at least start thinking about a wedding date."

Clint felt himself grinning. "That anxious to have it over with?"

"Don't want you to change your mind."

He chuckled and pulled her even closer. "Not a chance. What about spring break so the kids at the community center can come?"

"They may not get one this year. School's only just started back up in some places and there's talk of shorter school year with only a month of summer vacation."

"Yeah, so Elyse and Matthew said. They're not happy, but they understand."

They sat there just like that, trying to figure out the best weekend to get married. Naomi suggested the anniversary of the day they met, but Clint nixed that. He didn't want to wait that long. Naomi rejected her birthday in March and Easter weekend for obvious reasons, and Memorial Day because it was too close to the anniversary of the invasion. Eventually they settled on June and made a note to call Gina with the news.

~~O~~

Leaving her room, Serene headed for the basement to put Clint and Naomi's clothes in the dryer, stopping at the end of the hallway. Clint and Naomi were on the sofa together talking quietly, and occasionally giggling together. Donny came up beside her and she held up a hand for silence. One look in his eyes and she knew he'd seen the same thing.

No matter what had happened in the past, Clint and Naomi loved each other with all their hearts. It was there in the way they looked at each other, the sound of their voice when they spoke, whether to each other or to another about their mate. Knowing that Clint wasn't one to share his feelings openly, seeing him do so now meant more than anything he could ever say.

They stopped talking and Serene pulled Donny away so her best friend and her fiancé could spend some time alone.

~~O~~

"Did you know Clint plays guitar _and_ piano?" Naomi outted her fiancé with a twinkle in her eye. Now he wouldn't have a good reason not to play a few songs for them because she knew he wouldn't deny the kids' request to hear Christmas songs. So, after dinner, Donny took the cover off the baby grand and checked that it was properly tuned before stepping out of the way and letting Clint take center stage.

Clint sat down, played an arpeggio up and down the scales then started with one of her favorite Christmas tunes. The pride she had in him swelled that he would do this for Serene and her family, and it made her love him even more. That love went off the charts when he asked Elyse and Matthew to sit on either side of him and sing along.

_Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock__  
__Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring__  
__Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun__  
__Now the jingle hop has begun__Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock__  
__Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time__  
__Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square__  
__In the frosty air__What a bright time, it's the right time__  
__To rock the night away__  
__Jingle bell time is a swell time__  
__To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh_

**TBC**

**A/N: **"Jingle Bell Rock" is a popular Christmas song first released by Bobby Helms in 1957. It has received frequent airplay in the United States during every Christmas time since then. "Jingle Bell Rock" was composed by Joseph Carleton Beal (1900–1967), and James Ross Boothe (1917–1976).


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:**This is it! The final chapter of From Time to Time. I'm very glad that so many readers enjoyed this story. In the beginning, it was only a one-part story that blossomed into three parts. It also contains a small crossover with the series Castle starring the fantastic Nathan Fillion and Stana Katic.

Many, many thanks to ladygris for her encouragement. Also, thanks to one of my readers. Unfortunately, I can't remember her screen name or I'd thank her personally. There was an element included in part three that came from her review or a PM. Not sure which. RL has been a pain in the backside the last few weeks and I'm lucky I can remember my own name.

2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris_._

Gracias,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**From Time to Time**

**Chapter 22**

Two days later, the snow finally let up and the roads had been plowed and sanded. Naomi and Clint waved from the car as they drove away and within just a few hours, they were back at Stark Tower. Close to dinner time, they appeared in the common area and one by one, the rest of the team joined them.

Stark, the last to arrive, drew Pepper into a long kiss then poured himself a small amount of scotch. "Got something so say, Legolas? 'Cause you look like you're about to pop a cork."

"As a matter of fact, _we_ do." Naomi stood at his side, her smile a wide as Clint's. "We'd originally decided on a June wedding…"

Shaking his head, Stark waved the empty glass in the air. "Can't do June. The Mark IX suit will be ready for field testing and…"

"_But_…" Clint interrupted the billionaire's rant, "…we've changed it to February fourteenth." The group congratulated them, Pepper and Natasha hugging Naomi and Clint while the guys just nodded or shook hands. "And that means I have to choose a best man."

Again Stark was the first to speak. "I'm flattered, Barton. We'll have the bachelor party in Las Vegas…"

"It's not you, Stark." And while he was dumbfounded, Clint turned to his best friend. "Natasha, will you be my best woman?"

Banner saluted Clint with his glass of iced tea. "Great idea, Clint. Different."

Waving both hands, Stark commanded the attention of those present. "Whoa! You're supposed to have a best _man_, Legolas. And Romanoff hardly qualifies."

"So? Naomi and I have never done things according to convention, so we're doing this wedding _our_ way. Besides, Nat's been with me a lot longer than the rest of you. She's the logical choice."

"What is the function of a best man?" Thor asked.

Clint shrugged. "He, or in this case, _she_ is sort of a personal aide to the groom. Helping with honeymoon plans, giving advice on formal wear, keeps the ring until the ceremony, gives the first toast at the reception and plans the bachelor party."

"I'm _not_ doing that." Natasha announced. "And I accept."

Stark contemplated Natasha for a few tense moments. "Just picturing the Black Widow in a tux."

At Natasha's sharp glance, Naomi squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sure a black _dress_ would be fine."

Though Clint had hoped that would be the end of the argument from Stark, it wasn't. "But it's the principle of the thing. She not a _guy._"

"Get over it Stark."

Grumbling, the billionaire poured another finger of scotch. "Fine. But I'm still throwing the bachelor party."

Holding her hands up in surrender, Natasha agreed. "Be my guest, Tony."

Clint felt Naomi's hand slip into his. "It's settled."

The conversation turned to other aspects of the wedding until Stark suddenly announced, "Banner's got a girlfriend. He's been dating your friend Genevieve." At the stunned looks from the others, Stark added, "I'm just saying she's probably gonna be his plus one at the reception."

Under her breath, Natasha muttered something in Russian making Clint laugh. He responded in the same language, switching to English for the other's benefit. "Very true."

Thor asked, "What did she say?"

"_Y__uvelirnyye izdeliya_. She just called him a schmuck."

Rolling his eyes, Stark bore the teasing the way he always did. He ignored it. "As I was _saying_, we'll go to Las Vegas a couple of days before the wedding, check into the penthouse at my hotel and…" he sipped a mouthful of scotch and swallowed, "…make it up from there."

Sliding onto one of the stools, Banner chuckled. "Wonder what the women'll be doing while we're in Vegas?"

Pepper snorted. "_Not_ going to a strip bar, that's for sure. You've picked out a gown, right, Naomi?"

"I have. Wanna see it?"

"Of course." Naomi and Pepper crossed the room stopping at the stairs and looking pointedly at Natasha.

The Russian rolled her eyes. "I'll come too."

~~O~~

"What's this place called again?" Naomi asked Clint as they drove through the streets of Manhattan. The snow had fallen just enough to give the world an enchanted fairy kingdom feel. Christmas was only a few days away and it looked like they were going to have a white one this year.

Clint flipped on the defroster and the windows cleared of condensation making it easier for him to see. "The Old Haunt. It was a speakeasy back in the day. A few years ago, there was a murder in the basement and after that it was sold to some writer."

Natasha laughed. "As if you didn't know." To Naomi, she said, "Richard Castle, the mystery writer bought it."

Naomi grinned as she turned back to her fiancé. "Clint, honey…" he cringed at her tone, "…isn't Richard Castle your favorite author?"

"What if he is?"

Huffing came from the backseat. "You know him personally?"

Clint shrugged his shoulders as he yanked the wheel hard to the right, skidding into a parking space. "I don't _know_ know him. We've only met a couple of times."

"I hear he's _very_ charming." Naomi teased, glancing back at Natasha to include her in the fun. Clint came around to open the doors for the women, each taking an arm as they entered the bar filled wall to wall with people dressed to impress. Some had come to be seen schmoozing with a famous writer. Others came for the free booze and food. Clint, Naomi and Natasha came for the fun.

As they walked through the door, the trio was met by none other than their host, Rick Castle. Standing beside him was a tall woman with long brown hair. At seeing Clint, Castle smiled broadly. "Clint, you old dog! Where the hell have you been?"

The men shook hands, Clint smiling back, just a little uncomfortable with the effusiveness of the greeting. "Castle. I'd like you to meet…"

The surprise on Castle's face would've been overdone for anyone but him…or Jared. "Naomi DeLuca? Son of a gun! Look at you!"

Naomi hugged the mystery writer, laughing when he kissed her noisily on the cheek. "Good to see you again, Rick. How're Alexis and Martha?"

"They're great. We've accepted Gina's invite to Christmas dinner." He looked from Naomi to Clint and back. "Uh, how do you two know each other?"

"Clint is my fiancé."

Clint cleared his throat driving away his dumbfounded expression and bringing Castle's attention back to him. "We're getting married on Valentine's Day."

The tall woman stepped up next to Castle. "Hey, Castle. Wanna introduce me to your friends?"

"Oh, sorry. Naomi DeLuca and Clint Barton, this is my good friend Detective Kate Beckett."

They all greeted one another with handshakes then Naomi wrapped her right hand around Clint's left elbow while Natasha, who'd been ignored during the reunion between Naomi and Castle, smiled and did the same on Clint's right, extending her other hand. "Hi. Natasha Romanoff."

"Richard Castle. Mystery writer. Are you FBI too, Natasha?"

~~O~~

Clint snorted when Natasha said with an innocent smile, "No, Mr. Castle. I'm a spy."

Castle laughed then coughed awkwardly when no one else did. Across the room, two men standing with two stunning women noticed Naomi and Natasha. The Hispanic man waved to get Castle's attention, but he didn't see it so Naomi pointed. "Someone wants you, Rick."

"More friends of mine." He headed in their direction drawing Clint up next to him and lowering his voice. "For over a year now you're in here always alone, rebuffing every female who made a play for you. Now I know why." Looking around, he lowered his voice even more. "By the way, I saw a replay of the invasion. Didn't know I was hosting one of the Avengers."

"Uh, two, Castle." Clint glanced over his shoulder at Natasha. "That's the Black Widow."

Castle's eyes widened in shock. "So she really _is_ a spy. This would make a great plotline for one of my Nicky Heat novels."

The two couples standing by the fireplace welcomed the others with smiles, the guys looking the women over with undisguised interest, especially the Hispanic man. He extended his hand to Natasha first then to Naomi. "Javier Esposito, at your service. And you are…?"

A commanding voice came from behind the group as Steve Rogers pushed his way to Natasha's side. "She's taken, pal. So back off." Steve dropped a quick kiss on Natasha's lips, dropped an arm around her shoulders and nodded at Castle. "Steve Rogers."

Esposito waved both hands in the air then winced when a very pretty African-American woman stepped on his foot. Castle grinned impishly as he introduced everyone. "Left to right we have Kate Beckett, Javier Esposito, Lanie Parish, Kevin Ryan, his lovely wife, Jenny, meet Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Naomi DeLuca and Clint Barton. Cops on the right, spies on the left. Or is it the other way around?" The cheeky grin turned to pain when Beckett squeezed his arm.

With a grin, Naomi said, "Clint, honey, isn't Rick your favorite author?"

Embarrassed that his secret was out, Clint rubbed the back of his head. "Uh, not really."

"So that stash of Nicki Heat novels in the bottom of your closet belongs to…"

"Someone else."

Laughing uproariously, Castle clapped a hand on Clint's shoulder. "You've read me. You've _read_ me and you liked it!" Rocking back and forth on his heels, he grinned smugly. "The first time he came in here he said he'd never heard of me."

Beckett again squeezed his arm. "Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and get them something to drink."

Clint rolled his eyes when Castle gave himself a head slap. "Sorry." He took orders, Beckett and Esposito going with him to help carry the drinks.

When Castle had gone, Clint smiled ruefully. "She sure has _him_ trained, doesn't she?"

~~O~~

Naomi excused herself, glancing over her shoulder as she moved through the crowd. When she was sure Clint couldn't see her, she sidled up to Castle and made the sort of request that only a good friend could make. The author agreed with a smile and Naomi's Christmas gift for her fiancé was in the bag. Now all she had to do was get it home and wrapped.

When Castle returned bearing drinks, to make a point, Naomi touched her fiancé on the arm. "Clint, honey, I left my purse in the car. Would you get it for me?"

"Sure." Clint set his drink on the table and pushed his way through the crowd with Naomi giving the women a "so there" look.

The entire group laughed when Castle said, "Wow! You sure have _him_ trained!" All but Ryan who hid an uncomfortable smile behind his glass as he took a drink.

On Christmas morning, before Clint and Naomi left for Gina's, Naomi watched as her fiancé unwrapped a complete hardback set of Richard Castle novels autographed by the author. He was more excited about the gift than he let on though he did kiss her soundly before opening each one just to check. Castle had signed each and every one with a different notation.

His gift, however, had to wait because it wouldn't be delivered for a couple of weeks. At least that's what he said. He was and wasn't lying, but she couldn't figure out. Three weeks later, she found out.

On a sunny yet cold winter Saturday morning, he put her in the truck, blindfolded, and not with the trick one he'd used for their appearance at the circus. She couldn't see anything with this one. When he removed it, she was standing in front of one of the most beautiful homes in all of Southampton though not the largest.

There was a long curved driveway that had a covered area near the entrance for parking that lead to a covered walkway and over to a side entrance.

A gated courtyard guarded the front door and a nook gave one a quiet place to sit and read or just contemplate one's place in the universe. Bay windows looked out over gently sloping hills. The entire home was covered in stones of varying sizes and shapes all set together randomly. The muted multihued browns and tans giving the eyes more to focus on than just the shapes of the stone themselves.

The garden, at least where she could see it, was filled with hardy winter plants and flowers, and come summer, she knew it would be bursting with color and life.

"It's beautiful, but why are we here?"

"Two reasons. One, your Christmas gift is here."

Naomi hitched one hip to the side. "And two?"

Clint spread his arms out to encompass the entire property. "Your mom's giving us this as a wedding present. But don't tell her I told you. She wanted it to be a surprise."

"Then how did _you_ find out?"

Opening the gate and ushering Naomi ahead of him, Clint rang the doorbell. "Because the current tenant told me. His work in the area will be wrapping up by February sixth and he'll be back home with his family by the seventh."

"Okay. But I still don't understand why…" The front door opened and Naomi's heart and stomach leapt to her throat making speech impossible for the moment because the man in front of her was none other than her favorite movie celebrity, Jeremiah Ridley. She'd always thought him attractive, though not as much as Clint, but in person the man was breathtaking.

He wore a blue-gray ribbed sweater that zipped up the front and dark slacks. His hair was light to medium brown worn short and parted on the left. In his films, he seemed much taller than five foot nine and she attributed it to his powerful on-screen presence. The majority of his characters were intense, troubled and very reluctant heroes with a thirst for danger. He seldom laughed in his movies, and when he did, someone usually died. He could say more with just a glance than most actors could with page after page of dialogue.

But the feeling she got from him now told her that he was a content and very happy man in his personal life. And why wouldn't he be? It had recently been announced that he and his wife were expecting their first child in two months.

Jeremiah smiled broadly. "Clint! Glad you could make it. And you must be Naomi." She looked stupidly at his hand, belatedly placing hers in it for a handshake. "Please come in." He kept hold of her hand, tucking into the bend of his elbow and drawing her inside.

Over her shoulder, Naomi could see her fiancé's smirk mixed with smugness and wanted to slap him, or kiss him. She wasn't sure. But instead, she just listened to Jeremiah chatter on about who knew what. The movie star led them to a small sitting room framed on three sides with floor to ceiling windows that let in the sun's warmth without the cold. For summer, there were heat reflecting shades that could be let down to keep the room cool.

Clint helped her off with her coat then removed his own tossing both over the back of the sofa. He and Jeremiah waited until she sat down to take seats themselves. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard him offer her a cup of hot cocoa, almost laughing when he squirted a generous heap of whipped cream on top and added sprinkles before handing it to her with a friendly smile. "So Naomi, Clint tells me that you're a fan of my work."

"I…yes. Yes, I am, Mr. Ridley."

"Please call me John. Jeremiah Ridley is my stage name." Jeremiah handed Clint a cup of cocoa, also with whipped cream, then served himself.

They spent the entire day with Jeremiah, Naomi coming away thoroughly charmed. And that wasn't all. She also went home with autographed DVDs of all his movies, including an advanced copy of his just released _The Boy Who Cried Wolf_. The "wolf" was an evil sorcerer in disguise and no one believed the boy when he was attacked while tending his flock. The boy grows up and sets about taking down evil wizards and sorcerers all over the world.

Naomi and Clint also received a standing invitation to stay with Jeremiah and his family the next time they were in southern California where they lived.

Yes, jewelry would've been nice, but it wouldn't have been Clint to give it except rarely. This memory, of meeting her favorite actor would stay with her forever.

**February 12****th**

The long black limo pulled up to the front of the hotel, Stark got out first followed by Banner, Clint, Rogers and lastly, Thor. The big Asgardian looked out of place in blue jeans, a New York Rangers jersey and a sport jacket.

Whipping off his sunglasses, Stark hooked them into the pocket of his blazer. "What d'you think, Point-Break?"

Grinning, Thor turned in a circle staring up at all the lights and people bustling here and there. "I find this city quite exhilarating, Stark though I am concerned. Will I be able to find Pop-Tarts in a place such as this?"

Stark slapped him on the shoulder. "This is Vegas. If they don't have it, it's not worth buying."

Banner too pulled off his sunglasses holding them in one hand. "And if they don't have what you want, they'll get it for you. For a price, of course."

The only one who wasn't smiling was Rogers. "At least one thing hasn't changed in the last seventy years. Las Vegas is just as gaudy now as it was then."

"You'll get over it, Capsicle. Let's check in and have dinner and drinks while we decide what to do for Barton's big send off."

Stark's words weren't meant as an insult and Clint didn't take them that way. "You thought about proposing to Pepper?"

"Planning it as we speak." The men followed the bellmen as they pushed three carts of luggage toward the back of the lobby. The Avengers piled in for the ride upstairs with the bellmen joining them a few minutes later. The good thing about renting the penthouse was the private elevator opened directly into the master suite.

Their rooms at Stark Tower were luxurious, but the hotel had taken it to a whole new level. The furnishings and fabrics fairly screamed money and lots of it. At any moment, Clint expected the royal family to come walking in. It was laid out much the same at the Tower with one common area and hallways that branched off in several directions. Each suite had a name and a color scheme that was unique.

"Okay, team. This is how it's gonna go. Banner, you're in Dresden, Rogers, take the Florentine, Thor, Star of Africa, Barton, let's go with…Jonker and I'll take Nizam. Anything you need, just pick up the phone. We have our own concierge team so don't be shy. If we want 'em, we have a full kitchen staff at our beck and call. If not, I'll just give 'em the night off." When the bellmen tried to help them with their bags, Stark sent the young men on their way with generous tips. "This is your show, Barton so make a decision. In or out for dinner? Fancy, casual, in between?"

"I'm kinda tired. Let's have something delivered."

"You got it." Taking out his phone, Stark scrolled his contact list until he found the one he wanted. He grabbed one of his suitcases and headed down the left middle hallway giving instructions over the phone. The rest of the guys grabbed their luggage and one by one, the doors opened then closed until the main room was empty.

Two hours later, the friends were lured out into the dining room by the smell of food cooking. The long table was set casually as befitted the meal with servers standing by. In one corner was a walk-in wine cellar and next to it, a walk-in refrigerator filled with every brand and style of beer made in the world.

Clint found his name at the head of the table with Rogers and Banner seated to his left, and Stark and Thor to his right. Drinks were ordered then Stark motioned to one of the servers and the woman went into the kitchen to emerge a moment later with a slender woman with brown hair highlighted in blond. "Giada, thanks for coming on so short notice."

"It's nothing, Antonio. I was only filming an episode of my cooking show. But for you, I was happy to drop everything." He voice had the tell-tale lilt of one for whom Italian was the first language.

The billionaire took her right hand in his and kissed the back of it. "You are a generous soul, Giada. I'd like you to meet my friends. The big blond guy is Thor. Across from him is Dr. Bruce Banner. Next to him is Captain Steve Rogers and the guest of honor, Agent Clint Barton. Guys, this is Giada De Laurentiis, the greatest Italian chef in the world."

"Agent Barton, you're the one getting married on Valentine's Day, yes?"

"Yeah." Clint shook the famous chef's hand, continuing the conversation in fluent Italian.

When Stark had enough of being ignored, he touched Giada on the shoulder and she returned to his side with a bright smile. "Dinner will be served very shortly, gentlemen." She nodded and left the room.

True to her word, Giada treated the men to the best Italian food any of them had ever tasted. And while their meal was settling and dessert was being prepared, the group retired to the game room where Thor was taught the finer points of pool.

Giada took her leave, giving both Stark and Clint a kiss on each cheek. At the door, she waved. "Ciao!" And was gone.

Stark gesture the others to his side. "What's the plan for your last day of freedom, Legolas? Strippers? Showgirls? The Elton John show? _Les_ _Misérables_? Gambling? Hookers? Gelato? Take your pick."

Clint grinned at his friends, one eyebrow crawling up his forehead as he told them exactly what he wanted to do on his final day of singlehood. Banner was concerned that the Other Guy might make an appearance, but he was persuaded by the relentlessness of the others, finally giving in.

That's how they found themselves the next morning, hiding in the bushes, geared up and armed with paintball guns, Stark having challenged a group on a corporate teambuilding retreat. Keeping his voice low, Stark said, "Call it, Cap."

Rogers nodded once then quickly handed out assignments. After a group fist bump, they separated and began their assault.

**February 14****th**

**Early Evening**

"One more time, folks!" The photographer counted to three and snapped off three shots in quick succession. "That's it. I'll wander around taking candid photos of the party until nine or so then I'm off."

Naomi's gown was strapless white chiffon covered a sheer overlay with wrist length sleeves. It had a multitude of white and silver stones in a starburst pattern exploding from the region of her navel. It swept the floor but didn't have a train. She also didn't wear a veil and the only jewelry she'd displayed was her engagement ring-now her wedding set-and a pair of matching earrings that dangled no more than an inch below her earlobes. Her bouquet and those of her attendants were made of anemones, dahlias, calla lilies, peonies carnations and cherry blossoms, all in pale shades of pink and white. The cherry blossoms were a private joke between Naomi and Clint.

In another unconventional move, Naomi had walked herself down the aisle. After all, she didn't need to be "given away" because she and Clint already belonged to each other. The ceremony just made it official.

Banner had been asked to officiate when it was discovered that he'd obtained a clergyman's license several years ago after being asked on more than a few occasions to perform wedding ceremonies by couples who assumed that he was a missionary from the United States. In a way he was, so it had been a natural step to take.

Gina had been asked to serve as matron of honor, but had declined because she wanted to sit with Naomi's father during the ceremony. She was dressed a deep burgundy floor length gown. A ruched mesh overlay V-neck with wrist length sleeves and beaded floral embellishment at the gathered waist draped over the underdress. And there, sitting beside her had been Fury, wearing a tux that reminded her of the most recent James Bond film.

Serene had stood as the matron of honor with Maria Hill, Pepper and Elyse as the bridesmaids. The women had worn eye-catching strapless dresses with sequined bodices in a dark pink the color of the inside of a watermelon. Elyse's dress was the same color, but more fitting for a young girl with an empire waist and a satin bow in the back to match the one in her hair.

The men were all in tuxes, each one subtly different than the others. Clint wore a vest and bow tie that matched the silver sparkles on Naomi's dress. Natasha, as the best woman, wore a chic strapless black dress that flattered her figure without clinging to every curve, the hemline stopping less than two inches above her knees. Over it, she wore a jacket that bore only a passing resemblance to the tuxes worn by the men. A simple strand of pearls and matching teardrop earrings completed the look. The groomsmen, Trevor Alston, Rogers, Stark and Donny also wore classic tuxes, but without vests or cummerbunds.

Matthew and Clint's namesake, called CJ to avoid confusion, served as the ring co-bearers each carrying a small satin pillow. CJ proudly carried the ring Naomi would give to Clint while Matthew carried Clint's for Naomi.

The group broke up, Naomi and Clint, husband and wife for a whole two hours, making their way to the front of the room where table for the wedding party had replaced the vine covered arch under which they'd taken their vows. Gina had insisted on having the wedding in her home. The plan had been to have it in the yard, but the weather had conspired against them forcing her to come up with a contingency on the fly.

And as unconventional as the couple was, she was even more so. Instead of clearing out the furniture, she had additional chairs brought in, and not the folding kind. There were forty in all, not including the dozen or so kids from the community center as well as Elyse and Matthew Whitfield, and Breena and Clint Alston.

Serene, Donny, Natasha and Steve found their seats on either side of the happy couple. As soon as everyone had been served drinks, lemonade for the kids and champagne for the adults who wanted it, Natasha stood to deliver her best woman speech. Somewhere in the middle, she slipped in a few sentences in Russian making Clint choke on his champagne and Naomi blush furiously when he translated. Though Gina asked several times, none of them would appease her curiosity.

Serene and Alston followed Natasha, and naturally, Stark had to get in on the fun, cutting himself off when Pepper called his name.

By the end of the night, everyone, especially Clint and Naomi were exhausted. Stark had provided transportation home or to their hotel, reserving a helicopter for himself and Pepper. The next day, Clint and Naomi boarded a plane for Europe and spent the next two weeks in Paris just relaxing and walking along the Champs-Élysées.

When they returned home, Clint and Naomi took a few days to rest up then it was business as usual for the happy couple, their family and friends.

It had taken more than twelve years for Naomi and Clint to get to this point, and they would spend the rest of their lives making up for those stolen years. And from time to time, they would look back on their joined lives and remember how lucky they were to have found each other.

**The End**


End file.
